Together We'll Fall
by Brown-Eyed Girl 75
Summary: REPOSTED BY REQUEST "We may be two completely fractured people, but together we make a slightly dented whole." DANNY/OC THIS STORY CONTAINS THE DEATH OF TWO CANON CHARACTERS AND FLASHBACKS TO DL AND FLACK/OC. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

_**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK**_

**_THANKS TO LAURZZ WHO GAVE ME THE COURAGE TO POST THIS THE FIRST TIME AROUND, AND FOR FULLY HAVING MY BACK THE SECOND TIME AROUND. REGARDLESS OF WHAT OTHERS MAY THINK, SHE MEANS THE WORLD TO ME AND THEY NEED TO JUST EITHER MIND THEIR OWN BUSINESS OR KEEP THEIR YAPS SHUT. BOTH WOULD BE NICE._**

_**THIS STORY IS BEING REPOSTED AND DEDICATED TO ALL OF THE FABULOUS, SUPPORTIVE READERS WHO HAVE PM'd ME ASKING WHATEVER HAPPENED TO IT AND REQUESTING THAT I PUT IT BACK UP. I AM ASHAMED TO ADMIT THAT I CAVED TO PRESSURE FROM A SELECT VIEW. THE TRUE FANS WHO ENJOYED THIS AND WANTED IT TO CONTINUE, HAVE TAUGHT ME THAT THESE NEGATIVE VIEW ONLY NEED TO DO TWO THINGS: REALIZE THAT THIS IS FICTION AND GET A LIFE.**_

_**A/N: THIS STORY CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH. TWO CHARACTERS ACTUALLY. IT WILL ALSO CONTAIN FLASHBACKS TO BOTH FLACK/OC AND DL AND AN EVENTUAL DANNY/SAM RELATIONSHIP. THIS STORY IS A STAND ALONE. IT HAS NO TIE IN TO MY PREVIOUS WORKS. THE ONLY CONSTANT IS THE USE OF MY OC, SAMANTHA ROSS.** _

**And whoever can tell me the reference to a very important DL episode from season 5, wins an (unfortunately) imaginary trip anywhere in the world**

* * *

**The world keeps spinning round**If I had only known  
I'd never hear your voice again  
I'd memorize each thing you ever said  
And on those lonely nights  
I could think of them once more  
Keep your words alive inside my head  
If I had only known  
I'd never hear your voice again  
You were the treasure in my hand  
You were the one who always stood beside me  
So unaware I foolishly believed  
That you would always be there  
But then there came a day  
And I turned my head and you slipped away  
If I had only known  
It was my last night by your side  
I'd pray a miracle would stop the dawn  
And when you'd smile at me  
I would look into your eyes  
And make sure you know my love  
For you goes on and on  
If I had only known  
If I had only known  
The love I would've shown  
If I had only known."  
-If I Had Only Known, Reba McEntire.

"

* * *

It had been three hundred and sixty five days.

Eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours.

Five hundred and twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes.

An insurmountable, agonizing amount of seconds since Samantha Flack's life had been tragically and horrifically shattered. Since her earth had stopped moving and the ground had opened up beneath her and swallowed her whole. Since her entire existence had come to a painful and screeching halt.

She could remember it vividly. Standing on her front porch. On the bottom step while her husband stood on the walked below her. The sky had been a vivid blue dotted with thick, luxurious snow white clouds. A slight breeze had been rustling the tree tops and caressing her face and gently billowing the stray hairs that had snuck out from her ponytail and hung at the sides of face. Birds had chirped merrily in the trees while the odd car passed by on the street outside of their Flushing, Queens home. A home they had lived in for less than year. Spending the first two months and a half months of their eight month old marriage in a cramped apartment in lower Manhattan.

She remembered that he had packed his things loaded the trunk of the car the night before. That the plane ticket to Virginia had been sitting on the table in the foyer, next to the front door. Along with his car keys and wallet. Everything neatly organized to save himself some time the next day. So he wouldn't have to rush around to get things done instead of being able to spend some last moments in bed with her. He had surprised her with breakfast in bed. A massive glass of orange juice, scrambled eggs, toast and slices of fresh cantaloupe and a banana. She had complained -after showering him with kisses and hugs and thank you's for being so thoughtful- that he had made her way too much food. That there was no way she'd ever be able to finish all of it. And he'd sat down on the bed beside her and laid a gentle hand on her stomach and kissed her softly.

"Mommies have to eat," he had said, the utmost pride and adoration in his vivid blue eyes as he looked down at her flat stomach where their unborn child resided. Two days before they'd found out about their baby. She was only two and a half months along, but they were ecstatic.

And full of hope for the future.

She could still hear him say those words to her. Even a year later she could still hear his voice and see that tenderness in his eyes that he reserved only for her. She could still taste his lips and smell his sweat and feel the muscles in his back and arms moving as they made love less then two hours before he was scheduled to leave. She could feel the sensations he provoked inside of her. The way his skin felt against hers. She could hear the things he murmured in her ear. Feel his hands clutching hers tightly above her head as he moved slowly inside of her. She could still hear herself calling his name as she came and feel the way his body quivered against hers when he himself reached completion. She could still see the intensity in his eyes and the perspiration beading on his forehead as he pulled back to look at her.

She could still hear him say I love you.

* * *

Don Flack Jr's last meal at home had been Chinese food left over from the night before, three chocolate cupcakes with vanilla icing from the dozen she'd made the afternoon previous, and two large glasses of cherry kool-aid. The kool-aid had always been her favourite drink, and she'd achieved in getting him somewhat addicted to the sugary sweet beverage in the two years that they had spent in each others lives. He hadn't had time to rinse his plate and glass before he left. She'd told him to sit the dirty things in the sink, that she'd take care of them after seeing him home. Or when she got home from work if case she forgot before then. That dish and glass had sat, un-rinsed, next to the sink exactly where'd he'd put it, for nearly two months. In her mind numbing, soul shattering grief, the simple removal of those items would have destroyed her. They had been the last things he had touched. The smudge from his lips had remained on the rim of the glass, along with one perfect, chocolate laced fingerprint along the side.

She remembered that he'd been wearing a pair of Tommy Hilfiger jeans and a yellow, white and blue striped golf shirt that was slightly tight around his biceps. The jeans were the ones she always declared were her favourite on him. While some women went weak in the knees when their men put on an exceptionally tailored suit and a crisp dress shirt and a tie and well polished shoes, she in turn had went weak in the knees at the sight of him in normal clothes. She had been so used to seeing him dressed up for work every day -not that he looked any less devastatingly handsome as time went on- it was seeing him looking like the guy next door that made her knees go weak and her stomach flutter. Those jeans were loose in the legs but hugged his ass perfectly. The cuffs had been frayed and there'd been a small, tattered hole in the back pocket. He'd worn a pair a black, blue and white Adidas cross trainers she'd bought him for his birthday. He normally wore them in the gym, but when she'd seen him slipping his feet into a God awful pair of Adidas flip flops she'd been attempting to toss in the trash for two years, she'd begged and pleaded with him to wear the runners.

As he'd stepped out of the house, after tucking his wallet into his back pocket and scooping up his keys, he'd slipped a pair of sunglasses over his eyes and a backwards NYPD ball cap onto his head. Still in her pyjamas, Samantha had stepped out onto the front porch in her bare feet, pausing at the top step as he started down the stairs and suddenly turned back towards her.

"I love you, baby," he'd said, and then drew her into his large, strong arms and held her tightly. "I'll see you soon," and he'd patted her stomach and gave a soft smile. "Be good for your mommy."

She'd kissed him goodbye -several times in fact- and clung to him as if fearing some force would rip them apart for eternity. Then he'd announced he was going to be late and didn't want to miss his flight. And he'd pulled away and gently touched her face and stared deep into her eyes. No words needed to be spoken. All their feelings and thoughts and emotions had been laid bare right there and then.

Then he'd turned back around and headed down the stairs. Promising to call her as soon as he got to the hotel before he'd slipped in behind the wheel of his black SUV. He'd started the ignition and gave a wave farewell before pulling out of the driveway.

And just like that he was gone.

Had she known that it was forever, she would have held onto to him and never let him go. Had she known it was the last time she'd ever see his face, she would have begged and pleaded for him to stay. Had she known that it would be the last time she'd ever heard his voice, she would have memorized every single word he ever said.

Less then three hours later, while she analyzed what seemed like an endless mountain of trace samples, her husband, the love of her life, had died along with two hundred and sixty two other innocent souls on board American Airlines flight 509. Taking with him not only her dreams of forever with the only man she'd ever truly loved, but the most incredible best friend she could have ever hoped for. The woman that had been a sister to her, who had welcome her with open arms when she arrived at the New York City crime lab two and a half years before. Who had laughed with her and cried with her. Who'd been there through the lowest of the lows and the highest of the highs. Who'd never judged her and who had always loved her. Who she could fight with one moment and forgive with the next.

Who had taken her place on the ill fated flight.

When Mac had been looking for a member of the team, to accompany a homicide detective to an anti-terrorism seminar in Virginia, the Flack's had decided to make it a husband and wife affair. Treat it is a little get away from the hustle and bustle of their daily existence. Put in for a few extra days off. So that when the conference was over, they had some alone time together. It wasn't an exotic vacation, but the thirty days from the time they signed up for it until a week before, they'd been on cloud nine about the idea of just getting away from it all. Until what Sam had thought was a simple case of the stomach flu and two missed menstrual cycles she blamed on work related stress, had proved to be so much more.

The all day sickness she was experiencing had forced her to cancel any plans on going away. She just wasn't up to it. And while they'd both been disappointed, they had been thrilled at the news that they were going to be parents. As had all of their closest friends and loved ones. Lindsay had stepped up and offered to take Sam's place. Mac needed someone to represent the lab and she had no pressing plans or children that relied on her presence, and was keen on the idea of a few days away.

She had talked to Lindsay the night before. The day after she was to arrive back, Lindsay Monroe was scheduled for her final wedding dress fitting. Samantha, as matron of honour, was in charge of making sure that all her best friend's appointments were kept and tasks were completed. The wedding -a candlelit service attended by seventy five guests- was scheduled to be held in two months at the historic St Patrick's Cathedral. Followed by an elaborate reception at The Waldorf Astoria. All Sam had been able to think about, or talk about, was the fact that by the time of the wedding, she would be almost five months pregnant. She was worried about how big she would be, and how horrible she'd look in her deep purple matron of honour dress. Lindsay had just laughed and told her that it was impossible for her to be anything but stunningly beautiful.

Despite spending the entire day working together, the two girls had remained on the phone, chatting about the wedding and the baby and the men in their life until well past two in the morning. It was as if they needed to get everything out in the opening because there wasn't going to be another chance to do it. Flack and Danny had long retired to bed. Both snoring noisily. One in the master bedroom of their home in Flushing, and the other stretched out on his couch in his apartment in lower Manhattan. And as the early morning hours crept up on them and both girls were yawning through their giggles and fighting sleep, they had reluctantly bid farewell.

"I'll pick the baby up something when I'm on my way back from Virginia," Lindsay had said. "I love you both."

Those were the last words Lindsay Monroe had ever spoken to her.

The next afternoon, Stella had rushed into the trace lab, a frantic expression on her face. She was nearly breathless and near tears, and said little more then "You have to come with me," as she practically dragged a startled Samantha Flack out of the trace lab and down to Mac's office.

The remaining members of the team were all gathered inside with the door closed. Mac stood, in front of his desk, his face ashen and his hands planted firmly on his hips. His eyes riveted on the television in front of him. At the time, Samantha wasn't sure how that television got in there. She would later learn that upon hearing the first news reports of the crash, a lab tech had alerted him and Mac had demanded that the tv be brought in ASAP. And then he'd alerted the team to what was going on.

Hawkes was there, his usual calm and composed self. Sitting emotionless on the couch in Mac's office, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped tightly together as he listened to the news reports. Adam, her beloved and treasured younger brother, had been pacing the room with a hand over his eyes to hid the tears.

And then there was Danny.

Danny had been the one, by his sheer facial expression alone, that had alerted her to fact that something terrible had happened. His eyes were red and swollen. Tears glistened as they trailed down his unshaven, horrified face. And when the door had opened and Stella led her inside, it had been Danny who'd made eye contact with her first. Those blue eyes that sparkled when he smiled, were filled with raw grief. And as they locked on her bewildered golden brown ones, they conveyed what she had always feared the most.

That she had lost everything.

* * *

She had always thought that it would be Danny Messer delivering the news of her husband's death. Only she had always thought that if that day ever came, it would be on the job. That Donald Flack Jr would have died doing what he was born to do. Protecting the city he loved, and making the world a better place, one bad guy at a time. In her worst nightmares, she'd always dreamt that he was shot during a raid or that a perp had gotten a hold of his gun either during an interrogation or a take down. Once she had dreamt that his life had been cut short by a terrorist attack similar to those that had occurred on nine eleven. But never had she ever thought she lose him to other outside forces or to even illness.

But one thing had remained constant in her dreams. It had always been Danny to tell her what had happened. Danny who had broken down delivering the horrible news. Danny who picked her up after she'd collapsed sobbing to the ground. Danny who had held her and stroked her hair as she cried into his shoulder. Danny who'd always whispered in her ear that everything was going to be okay. That she was going to be fine. That he was going to take care of her.

And it had been Danny. Danny who, without a word, pushing his own grief aside, had broken away from the group gathered around the television and gathered her in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Samantha," he'd whispered. Forgoing his usual use of the nickname Brooklyn that he'd pegged her with her first day on the job. "I'm so sorry. He's gone. Flack's gone. They're gone."

The wind had been promptly knocked out of her and her knees had went completely weak. Her legs had buckled and Danny had been the one the keep her on her feet. Who'd ordered Adam to get her a drink of water as he pulled up a chair and gently lowered her in it.

And then she had heard just how she'd lost her husband and her best friend. The words, "American Airlines Flight 509, down in a field outside of Virginia. Two hundred and sixty two on board. No survivors" would be forever etched in her memory. As would the pictures of a smoking crater in the middle of a farmer's field. Debris had been scattered for miles. Nothing bigger then a paper back novel save for a couple of seats, had been found.

At first there'd been a fear of a bomb or some kind of terrorist act. But when days passed without any organization taking claim for the incident, all eyes turned to the idea that it could have been mechanical failure. When the NTSB finally found the black boxes, in bushes several miles away, they had, after listening to the cockpit voice recorder and looking at the data, concluded that the flight had suffered complete engine failure. The pilots had reported the situation to air traffic controllers, and two minutes later had gone off radar and there'd been complete radio silence.

Two months after the crash, the cause of it had officially been reported as a massive, all systems malfunction. Samantha Flack and Danny Messer, along with two hundred and sixty other family members, had been sent their loved ones death certificate. The COD had been listed as fragmentation due to blunt force trauma.

Samantha had looked at those words and sobbed as the realization of them had set in. Nothing had ever been found. Nothing ever would. And while the rational part of her knew that he was gone and never coming back, that she was a widow and would raise their child on her own, the irrational side of her told her that maybe there was still hope. That maybe he was out there somewhere. That maybe he'd simply skipped the flight and took off. Maybe he'd gotten tired of their marriage. Maybe he wasn't ready to be a father and he felt the easier thing to do was simply take off. And maybe one day, when he smartened up and realized he couldn't live without her or their child, he'd come walking through the front door, vowing to never leave again.

A year later, as she lay in their rumbled bed, the irrational side of her was still waiting. All of his clothes still hung in the closet and sat neatly folded in his dresser. The clothes that had been in the laundry basket had been washed and put away. The half empty bottle of water he'd taken to bed the night before still sat on the night stand, along with an extremely dog-eared copy of War and Peace. Beside it, sat his wedding ring. A thick white gold band that sparkled in the sunlight cascading through the bedroom window. Three days before his death, he'd been in a tousle with a perp and had busted three of his knuckles on his left hand. He had taken the ring off when wearing it had proved painful. And he'd sat it on the night stand amidst her bitching that all the ladies would be after him now that he'd taken off. Then he'd rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around her and tackled her to the bed. Promising to put it back on when the swelling went down. And declaring she was the only woman in his life.

In the bathroom, his toothbrush still sat in the holder beside hers. She kept his razor in its usual resting place, and all his other necessities where she was used to seeing them. She kept everything, big and small that reminded her of him. No matter how many people told her she was sick and obsessed for doing it. No matter how many times she was told that she needed help. That it wasn't healthy and it wasn't normal to be clinging onto him as much as she was.

No one understood. No one got it. No one ever asked her to explain how she was feeling. Or seemed to even care. She felt empty and lost. As if the only thing she had worth living for some days, was the thought that one day she'd see him again.

The only person who got it, who understood how she felt, was Danny. Because he'd lost someone that he'd loved more then life itself. He didn't judge her or criticize her. He would sit for hours with her. Holding her hand. Whether it be in complete silence, or listening to ranting and raving about the injustices of the world. Danny had been there no matter what. While other people had found it hard to be around her -mostly out of fear of not knowing what to say- he'd stepped up to take care of her. Regardless of how bad he was suffering inside. He had taken her to doctor's appointments and ultrasounds. He had made sure she had proper food in the house and that she was well stocked with prenatal vitamins. He had made repairs around the house. He had went with her to buy baby furniture and painted and decorated the nursery.

He'd been there when her son was born. He'd been nervous and afraid, but he'd been by her side through the entire thirteen hour ordeal. Getting her ice chips and walking her up and down the hospital hallways. Letting her curse and cry and scream and squeeze his hand so tight he thought she broke it. And in the end, as that newborn boy cried, he'd cut the cord and the doctor had laid the baby in his arms. Tears had been streaming down his face as he carried the child to his mother and presented him to her for the first time.

It had always been Danny.

She thought of him now, as she yawned noisily and rubbed at her burning, teary eyes. She wondered how he was holding up on the first anniversary of his future wife's, and his best friend's deaths. Danny didn't talk about how he was feeling very often. She knew he was devastated. Even now. Despite the fact he shed little tears around her, she knew that he was broken. He too had lost his everything. His entire future. And while she'd hung on to everything that had meant something to her, Danny had gone in a completely different direction with his grief. Within a month of Lindsay's death, he'd gotten rid of nearly everything she owned. He'd kept behind a few ideas that mattered most to him, passed a few more Sam's way and sent boxes of stuff to Lindsay's folks. The rest he'd simply donated to charity. While Sam found it a comfort to have her husband's things surrounding her, Danny said it was too hard on him to see all of Lindsay's stuff lying around. He knew she was gone. He didn't need constant reminders.

She thought of the memorial service being held that afternoon at that farmer's field in Virginia. The smoking crater had long been covered over. The only thing that remained to remind people of what had happened that day were two hundred and sixty two small American flags that the farmer stuck in the soil. He replaced them four times a year when they became tattered and weather beaten. Family members of the passengers and crew would be descending on the site of the crash. Prayers would be recited. The National Anthem and hymns would be sung. The names of all the victims would be read by loved ones. Both Sam and Danny had declined invitations. Sam had chosen not to go due to her still fragile emotional state and her son that needed her. Danny had just refused to go. No explanation. So Stella and Adam had gone in their place. To read the two names that still evoked tears, and many a fond memory.

Sam wished more of those memories would come to her. Because even a year later, all her mind could conjure up was thoughts of her husband's final moments. For two minutes the crew and passengers on that plane had known that something terrible was happening. For a hundred and twenty seconds, they knew that they weren't going to survive. And she wondered, in her darkest moments, just what was going through her husband's mind. How had he been feeling? Had he been frightened? Stoic? The calm and composed on even to the bitter end? Had he thought about her? About their unborn child? Did he have any regrets? Were there things he wanted to say to her but knew he'd never get the chance to?

And because she seemed to thrive on torturing herself, Samantha Flack rolled over onto her side in that empty bed, her arm reaching out for his pillow. The same routine she'd practiced for a year now. Reaching out for him and finding nothing but cold and empty sheets. And then, with her eyes riveted on the bedside clock, she remained motionless and silent for two minutes.

It felt like a lifetime.

But it was nothing compared to three hundred and sixty five days.

That seemed like an eternity.

* * *

When the time had passed, she sighed heavily and flopped over onto her back. She stared up at the ceiling and relaxed in the silence of her home. Listening for any signs of life through the baby monitor sitting above her pillow. It was quarter to seven and he was due for a feeding. She was tempted to climb out of bed and wander down the hall and into the nursery. To peek into his crib and make sure he was okay. She was constantly besieged by worries that something would happen to her son. That something would take him away from her. The only link she had left to her husband. She fought the urge to run and check on him and instead turned her head towards the table on her side of the bed.

Where a wedding picture sat in a heavy pewter frame. Taken twenty months ago on the front steps of St. Michael's Catholic Church in Flushing. The same church in which Donald Flack Sr had married his own wife, and then had his baby son and namesake baptised in. She had worn an off the rack gown she'd purchased for two hundred bucks. A white satin gown with three quarter length sleeves, a sweetheart neckline and a small train. Beads and crystals around the edges of the sleeves and the along the hem of the dress and the train and around the waist. A crystal head band and her hair styled in loose curls. A cathedral length veil completing her ensemble. She was standing on the third step from the bottom with her brand new husband in his NYPD dress blues standing on the sidewalk in front of her. Her arm wrapped around his neck as they both beamed for the camera. At a full foot taller than her, it had always been tricky to get decent standing up pictures of them. The photographer had captured the perfect moment and it remained her favourite picture of all time.

She slid across the bed and reached out and scooped the picture up. She settled the bottom of the frame on her chest and held it tightly in both hands as she stared at the image. They'd been so happy. So in love. Not just at that moment. But from the very second they'd fallen in love. He hadn't always been the most gentle and patient and understanding man in the world. There were times that he had been capable of being a total ass. Where he spoke before he thought and something sarcastic and hurtful tumbled out of his mouth. But there were other times he was kind and considerate and loving. Those times far outweighed the bad ones. The best part of their relationship was that neither of them were perfect and they didn't expect each other to be. They accepted one another.

And loved one another. Wholly and completely.

She gave a small smile and trailed her fingertips along her husband's smiling face.

"I miss you," she whispered in the silence of their room. "I love you. Always. It will always be you."

The baby monitor above her head crackled to life. Soft murmurings and barely audible whimpers. From the day he was born, Donald Joseph Flack the Third had never been much of a crier. It was rare that he escalated into full out wailing. Something his weary and emotionally drained mother was grateful for. She set the picture down on the nightstand and wiped her tears on the front of her pyjama top before tossing the covers off of her and climbing out of bed. Yawning noisily she journeyed out of the room and padded down the hall to the nursery.

"Mommy's coming," she called out in a soft, tired voice as she entered the colourfully decorated room.

The day before his death, Flack had told her that if they found out down the road they were having a boy, he was going to do the room in red, white and blue. The colours of the New York Rangers. His favourite hockey team. Sam had held true to his wishes. When her last ultrasound had confirmed that she was indeed having a boy, she had enlisted Danny to do the grunt work. The results had been far beyond anything she ever expected. One white wall, one blue, one red, and the forth, red, white and blue stripes. Danny had called in favour -to who he wouldn't say- and had procured a Rangers jersey autographed by the whole team. It now hung in a glass display frame on the far wall. He'd even found a ceiling light shade that was an exact replica of the score board at Madison Square Garden.

She walked over to the natural wood crib and peered inside. A bright smiling spreading across her face at the sight of her beautiful, precious bundle of joy.

"Good morning my baby sweets," she greeted, and was rewarded with a genuine smile and a loud gurgle from the soon to be four month old. He was a spitting image of his father. A head full of black, thick hair and huge blue eyes and dimples in his cheeks. "How is mommy's handsome boy?" she asked, picking him up out of his bed and showering him with kisses. "How is my gorgeous man? Did you have a good sleep? Mommy missed you. Did you have good dreams?"

She carried him to his changing table near the window and placed him down gently. "I bet you're just starving aren't you," she said, as she reached between his legs and snapped open the closures on his Winnie the Pooh sleeper. "First we need to change your bum. 'Cause I bet you're just soaked."

The baby gurgled noisily.

She peeled off the sticky tabs on the Pampers diaper. "PEE-EW!" she cried as she yanked the wet diaper out from underneath him. "DJ stinks like pee-pee!"

Her son smiled brightly.

She called him DJ for the sole fact that she couldn't utter the names Don or Donnie without breaking down.

She snagged a wipe from the nearby container and cleaned his bum and put him in a fresh diaper and snapped his sleeper closed once again. Picking him up, she carried him along one arm and deposited the dirty diaper in the Genie next to the changing table.

"Today's a special day," she told her son, as she journeyed over to the white gliding chair in the corner and slowly and carefully sat down. "A very special day," she added, as she unbuttoned her pyjama top and placed her baby at her breast. "Today's the day that daddy went to heaven," she explained, tears filling her eyes as she spoke, stroking her son's hair as he nursed. "Today's the day that he became an angel. And we're supposed to be happy for him. Because he's at peace now. He's not scared or alone or in any pain. He's watching us and listening to us. He's looking at you and smiling…" her voice cracked with emotion and she cleared her throat. "Your daddy loves you so much. He loved you the moment we found out that you were in my tummy. He was so excited about having you. It was all he talked about!"

She sniffled noisily and cleared her throat once again.

"Your daddy would have given anything to be here right now," she continued. "He didn't want to leave us. He loved us too much. But sometimes, things happen. We can't control them or stop them. But you have to know that your daddy…" she fought back a sob. "..your daddy was brave and strong and he never would have left us unless he had to. He loved us."

She dissolved into tears and forced herself to look away from her innocent child. She looked out the window at the bright sunshine and the leaves off the trees being stirred by the wind."He loved us," she said aloud. And with conviction.

* * *

**So to all of those who have already read this, while reviewing would be much appreciated, I can understand if you don't want to. For anyone whose new to this story, I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter and will enjoy whatever is to come. I have this first thirteen chapters stored away, and if people would like, I will definitely continued past that.**

**So R and R folks! Nastiness need not bother.**


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA.**

**Once again, thanks to everyone offering their support in the re-posting of this. I'll take it a couple chapters at a time until we get to where I left off last time. Then it's all new stuff!**

* * *

**Travelling the broken road**

"Sunny days seem to hurt the most  
I wear the pain like a heavy coat  
I feel you everywhere I go  
I see your smile, I see your face,  
I hear you laughin' in the rain  
I still can't believe you're gone  
It ain't fair: you died too young,  
Like the story that had just begun,  
But death tore the pages all away  
Lord knows how I miss you,  
All the hell that I've been through,  
Just knowin' no-one could take your place  
And sometimes I wonder,  
Who'd you be today?"  
-Who'd You'd be Today, Kenny Chesney

* * *

Danny Messer hadn't slept in nearly thirty-six hours.

More out of necessity than desire. The truth of the matter was, he'd been dead on his feet after the first eighteen. Dragging himself around the lab like a zombie. His feet shuffling and his limbs feeling like ten tons weights as he attempted to throw his all into his work. Yawning incessantly and barely able to keep his eyes open, he'd sustained himself on nothing but an endless supply of cups of black coffee and short naps on the couch in the office he shared with Doctor Sheldon Hawkes. He had been at his locker after his scheduled eight hour shift had come to an end, pulling on his jacket and looking forward to attending to some errands, when Mac had come looking for him. Desperately needing assistance, and cooperation, after a call came through about a home invasion turned quadruple homicide in Staten Island.

Danny couldn't, say no to Mac Taylor. Not after the years of mutual respect, loyalty, and as of late, friendship, that the two men had shared. Mac, while managing to main his tough as nails, hard ass, 'don't fuck with me' personna, had always had Danny's back. Over the length of his career within the crime lab, it pained, and embarrassed Danny to admit that there'd been many a time he'd needed Mac and his solid, unwavering support. He had been a self admitted monumental pain in his boss' ass. But Mac had always stuck by him. Even if Mac did doll out punishment or a tongue lashing in the process.

He also couldn't say no because of his own personal work ethic. He couldn't in good faith, walk out of the lab knowing that he was leaving the rest of the team -who'd already rolled up their sleeves and set to work- in a lurch. His conscience simply wouldn't let him rest if he left his closest friends, whom he considered family, up shit creek without a paddle. Mac was genuinely in need. He was already done one investigator. Samantha had left for maternity leave at the end of her seventh month. Despite already far surpassing the two months of sick leave and the six weeks she was allotted following her son's birth, she'd yet to come back. Danny personally didn't think she ever would return.

While she'd never actually come right and told him that she had no plans on ever setting foot in the lab again, he'd spent enough time with her in the past year -nearly every waking moment to be exact-to know that going back to work would only torture her more. There were a lot of memories there. Some bad. Most good. But he knew after Flack and Lindsay had died, that Sam had had difficult time being at work. That she saw them wherever she went. Heard their voices in the different labs and in the hallways. Naturally, her grief for her husband was greater than that for her best friend. Both were unbearable in their own right. But the death of the love of her life, the father of her unborn child, had nearly destroyed her. It still threatened to break her, even on the best of days. And going back to the lab, to drown in a sea of memories and despair, was nothing short of inhumane. She'd been off for a month after the crash and when she had returned, she had never been the same.

The team missed her. They knew that Danny spent whatever time he could with her and the baby and they asked about her all the time. They rarely asked him about himself. Only because they knew they wouldn't get an answer. That he'd shrug and enforce that he was fine and either change the subject or go back to whatever he was doing. He didn't mind one bit that they didn't press him to talk about how he was feeling. Danny Messer dealt with grief in his own, introverted style. He was notoriously closed off when it came to personal trauma and he had no plans on changing his practices. So instead he answered their questions about Sam and the baby, all the while silently screaming at them to get off their asses and either call her or head to Queens and physically check on her. He understood that most didn't know what to say. They knew she was suffering and didn't want to make things worse on her. But others stayed away because they felt she was grieving too long and too hard. That she needed to stop clinging to her husband's memory as desperately as she was.

That she needed to move on.

Danny in turn, told those people to do two thing. The first was to put themselves in her shoes. Her husband of less than a year was gone. Obliterated. Nothing had ever been found of Flack. Not a strand of hair, not a shred of skin or so much as a tooth. Gone. There were no remains. No grave to visit and place flowers upon. His resting place -along with two hundred and sixty one other people- was that field in Virginia. He had left her while she was newly pregnant with their first child. He'd never see or hold his son. The baby would never know his father. And that alone was tragic.

The second thing he told them, in true Danny Messer style, was to fuck off and mind their own business.

As he sat on his fire escape at seven thirty in the morning, chain smoking and drinking coffee out of a chipped ceramic mug, he thought about the plane crash that claimed the lives of his future wife and his best friend a year ago. In all intents and purposes, Danny Messer had been one of the lucky ones. In a strikingly morbid way. While Samantha Flack and countless other family members never received the closure that the discovery of remains gave to them, he had been given something of Lindsay's. Two things, actually. Found among the charred, disintegrated remains of the jet liner and body parts, her DNA had successfully been matched to a badly burned, severed right baby finger and several shards of bone that had one been part of her left femur.

He could still remember, in vivid detail, being escorted down to the ME's office by Mac, and standing along side of an empty autopsy table. Across from which stood a member of the National Transportation and Safety Board and a pale and grief stricken Sid Hammerback. It had been Sid, who through a flow of unabashed tears, who'd handed him those small plastic jars with those 'items' inside and then explained, as best as he could managed, how the remains had been found and matched to a DNA sample that Danny had sent to the Virginia Medical Examiners Office. Following the crash, family members had been asked to send in something of their loved ones for comparison purposes. Danny had sent in a clump of hair from Lindsay's brush. Sam had sent in Flack's spare toothbrush from his work locker. Danny could still see her as she sealed the plastic baggy with that tooth brush in it. Her hands trembling and tears pouring down her face, outwardly begging God to please send her a sign. To help her come to turns with it. She needed to know, beyond a reasonable doubt that her husband was dead.

God had never granted her that closure.

Danny however, had taken those plastic jars in his hands and looked at them, nausea bubbling inside of him as he realized that those parts were the only things left of the woman he loved more then life itself. And he'd been filled with an incredible sense of rage and turned his angry blue eyes at the NTSB agent and Sid.

"What the fuck am I suppose to do with these?" he'd asked.

The answer in the end, had been to cremate them. And then separate what little ashes there were into two equal portions. One he'd sent to Lindsay's parents, who taken them and put them in a tiny urn normally reserved for babies, and buried them underneath a rose bush her father had planted in her memory. The other portion Danny had kept for himself. Sealing them in a plastic baggy before buying a cherry wood and pewter memory box and placing them inside.

Those ashes had remained on the night stand next to his bed for nearly six months before he finally was able to let them go. He'd taken them down to Coney Island shortly sunset and had purchased a ticket to ride the Ferris wheel. It had been a year to the day that he had proposed to Lindsay. On the exact same Ferris wheel at the exact same time of day. And the moment that the ride had reached the top and it neared the time when he'd brought out that diamond ring and asked her to be his wife, he'd opened up that plastic baggy containing his love's remains and dumped the ashes out. Letting the stiff breeze carry them on the air, as tears of sorrow spilled down his cheeks.

* * *

After that, Danny had vowed to move on with his life. Death was permanent to him. He didn't beg and pleaded to the heavens for Lindsay to come back. Because he knew no matter how loud he ranted and raved, no matter how many times he prayed, she wasn't coming back. She was gone. In a better place. The ones that truly suffered were the family and friends that were left behind to grieve. The ones that tossed and turned at night and stifled their sobs in their pillows. The ones that couldn't come to terms with what had happened. The ones that sought answers that would never come. The ones that held onto regrets instead of remembering all the amazing times they had shared with the deceased. He would always love her and miss her. There was never a doubt about that. A part of him had died with her. His hopes for the future had vanished the moment that plane had plunged out of the sky and slammed into the rock hard earth. He wouldn't be marrying her. She wouldn't be bearing him children. They wouldn't be growing old together, side by side. He would never hear her say his name again or feel the touch of her hands of smell the sweet, intoxicating scent of her hair. He'd never kiss her lips or feel her body against his again.

He had accepted that. There was no sense wishing her back. Wishes like that simply didn't come true. Instead he lightened his suffering by looking at pictures of her and watching videos they had taken of each other. He laughed along with her during the recording of her thirty-fourth birthday party when she'd a can of silly string and doused him and the camera. He smiled at her and Sam singing Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy disgustingly off key. A bottle of beer in each of their hands and tipsy smiles on their faces. He cried a little at her blowing a kiss to the camera and telling him she loved him.

But for the most part, he remembered her fondly. They had survived the harshest of odds and nasty splits. They had found deep and impenetrable love. She had practiced the art of forgiving, even if forgetting was never an option. She had taken him back after each screw up and never stopped loving him. They had shared a life. All the trials and tribulations and the happiness and sorrow that came with it.

And as long as he lived, he'd be forever grateful that God had brought her into his life.

Even if HE did take her back so violently and unexpectedly.

Danny knew, in his heart, that Lindsay wouldn't want him to be alone and miserable forever. She had told him once that if anything ever happened to her, that she wanted him to live. She wanted him to meet someone that would love him and cherish him. Someone he could give his entire heart too. Who would fill all his empty, dark days with a light and whom he'd love wholly and unconditionally. He had told her at the time, that that person was her. There was no one else on earth that he could ever feel that way about. And she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly and whispered ever so gently in his ear:

"You would find her, Danny. She would find you."

He could hear those words as if it was just yesterday. He could still recall the sound of her voice and feel her soft breath against his skin. He could still feel the touch of her lips as she kissed him goodbye. See that beautiful smile as she glanced over her shoulder at him as he stood in front of their open apartment door, watching as she made her way to the elevator. Danny had no regrets about that last morning. They had spent two hours in bed enjoying each other and pleasing one another. Laughing as they rolled around in a tangled mess of sheets. Talking about their upcoming wedding and being asked to be godparents of Sam and Flack's unborn baby. Their lives were full of happiness and love. So many wonderful events that they had been looking forward to.

They had, just before she'd stepped on the elevator, told each other I love you. Then she'd blown him a kiss and disappeared from sight.

Less then four hours later, she also disappeared from his life.

* * *

As he sat enjoying the peace and quiet of the morning, that thought made Danny Messer sigh heavily and blink back tears. He took a long drag of his cigarette and attempted to wash the lump in his throat away with a swig of coffee.

It had been a year. The longest year of his life. He had lost two people that he'd loved dearly that day. His future wife and his best friend. Flack had been like a brother to him. He had loved the guy more then he'd loved members of his own family. Flack had always been there for him. No matter how deep the shit was that Danny had managed to step into. The shooting of Ronnie Minhas, his brother Louie's beating at the hands of Sonny Sassone. The disaster that was Rikki Sandoval. It had been Flack that had given him the benefit of the doubt the day Rikki had stolen his gun and went after Ollie Barnes. While others were quick to think that it was Danny himself after Barnes, Flack had stuck to his guns and did what he had to in order to uncover the truth. Danny could still see the furious and concerned look on Flack's face as they argued outside of the bail bonds place that day. He could still hear the angry, agitated tone in his best friend's voice. Flack had a way of laying a beating on you without ever resorting to anything physical. It was all in those blue eyes and the harshness of the words that tumbled out of his mouth. And although he'd acted like an ungrateful spoiled brat at the end of the day when he'd brought Rikki into the precinct, Danny would never, ever forget how much he appreciated Flack for everything he'd done.

He only wished that he could have told the man himself. That he had have went to Flack and told him exactly what that day meant to him. That he had of told his best friend how much he respected him. And loved him. Even if he did get a foul look and an "Say that again and I'll beat your ass, Messer" for his troubles.

He missed Flack. Every second of every day. He missed working cases with the big homicide detective. He missed laughing at those witty, biting one lines that seemed to roll so easily off of Flack's tongue. He missed the shared sarcasm and the way they worked so easily together. He missed seeing that shrug and hearing the infamous "Same shit, different day," answer that Flack always gave when someone asked him how work was coming along. Most of all, he missed those off the clock moments. Going out for a few beers and shooting some pool or playing darts together. Talking about everything under the sun. As long as it didn't involve work. Their favourite topics of conversation, were obviously the beautiful young women they'd managed to somehow land. Flack was a happily married man. When he talked about his wife, his entire face lit up and his blue eyes sparkled. He was in love and felt whole. His exact words. He finally had someone that made him feel complete. That made him feel as if he was the most amazing guy in the world. Who made him feel loved and respected.

Who made him want to be a better man.

And it was for Flack, and for the woman that his best friend love more then life, that Danny had vowed to make sure that Samantha and that baby were well taken care of. That they weren't scared and alone. That things were running smoothly at home. That all her bills were up to date and that there was food in the fridge and in the cupboards. He didn't want them going without. And it killed him to see how badly Samantha was coping with what had happened. She needed to be strong for herself, and for her son. She needed to come to terms with what had happened and then slowly pick up the pieces and get on with her life.

And Danny was determined to make sure that she'd do all of that and more. Because Flack had asked him, during a lull in a conversation about baseball as they sat on Flack's front porch at twilight only a month before the crash, if Danny would take care of his family should anything happen to him. Danny had been taken aback by not only the question, but at the fact that it was Flack asking something like that. Flack never dwelled on the negative aspects of the job. He knew full well that he could easily be shot or stabbed or hell, even blown up in the course of a day. That he could meet his demise while out on the street. And while he had his ducks all in a row in the form of a will and life insurance policies and a secret savings account for his wife, Flack never talked about death. Even thought he'd had his stomach blown open by a bomb. It just wasn't in his nature to mention things like that. So Danny had known right there and then, that his best friend meant business.

"I don't want her to be alone," Flack had said, staring out at the quickly darkening horizon as he sipped his beer. Behind them, the door to the house was open and they could hear their girls talking and giggling in the distance in the kitchen. "I don't want Sammie to be alone, Messer. It's important to me that she's not alone if anything ever happens to me."

"I'll make sure that she's okay," Danny had assured him. "She can come and stay with me and Montana. We could even more in here. Trust me. We'll take care of her. She won't be alone."

"She always says that she wouldn't be able to live without me," Flack had mused. "But she's an amazingly strong woman. She'd be okay. I just want to make sure that she's got people around her to help her cope. That won't let her fall to pieces. I just want her to be taken care of."

Danny had laid a hand on his best friend's shoulder and gave a confidant smile. "She'll be fine," he'd assured Flack. "I'll make sure she's fine."

That had been the end of the conversation. Lindsay had yelled to them that supper was ready and they'd simply finished off their beers and headed inside as if they'd never discussed something that serious and life altering.

But Danny had never forgotten a moment of it . And it was why he did as much as he did for Samantha. Not because he felt some sort of obligation. But because she was his friend and she was hurting. Desperately. And whatever he could do help ease the burden, he was more then willing to do.

* * *

He finished his coffee and stubbed his cigarette out on the metal steps before tossing it over the railing to the street below. He had already decided, as he dragged himself through his apartment door at three in the morning and collapsed onto the couch without even removing his shoes or clothes or even locking the door, that there was no way Samantha Flack was going to spend the anniversary of the deaths of her husband and best friend alone. That as soon as a decent, reasonable time rolled around, he was going to clean himself up and head into Queens and spend the day with her and the baby. Take her out for lunch and a walk through Central Park. See if she needed any manual labour done on the house or if she wanted him to watch the baby for a few hours while she got some rest. He'd cook them dinner and drink some wine and crash on the couch or in the spare bedroom.

Because truthfully, he didn't want to be alone either.

Danny picked up the copy of the Times that sat folded beside him on the stairs and opened it up. On the front page was an article about the anniversary of the crash and profiles of the local people who had been aboard the plane. There were four altogether. Amber Sussman, a twenty-four year old elementary school teacher from Astoria who was on her way to visit her boyfriend stationed at an army base in Virginia. Michael Jefferies, a forty-seven year old stockbroker from the upper west side of Manhattan who'd missed an earlier flight out to visit his ailing mother and had been forced to take the doomed flight.

And of course, Lindsay Monroe and Donald Flack Jr. Their deaths, as members of the NYPD, had been plastered all over every newspaper in town after the crash. Reporters for paper and television and radio had all but camped out on Danny and Sam's doorsteps waiting for some kind of reaction to the demise of their loved ones. Thankfully, Mac and Chief of Detectives Brigham Sinclair had both stepped up and became spokesmen for the two of them. Answering any questions, issuing statements, releasing photographs of their deceased loved ones.

The only time that Danny and Sam themselves had ever been photographed or featured on the news, was a month following the crash. After the cause had been determined and any search for remains had been abandoned, family members had been invited to view the area where the victims had perished. Sam and Danny had flown to Virginia together and never left each other's sides. And photos had been taken, and featured in every local paper, of them surveying the crash site through a chain link fence that the NTSB had erected during their investigation. Danny had been the stoic and emotionless one, his arm around Samantha's shoulders as she clutched a photo of her husband to her chest and tears poured down her face.

As the months went on, so did the publics fascination with what had happened. While the general population ever pushed the crash to the back of their minds or simply forgot about it, Danny Messer and Samantha Flack, along with all the others left behind, were left to deal with their grief in private. Others may have forgotten the names and the faces of those who had perished, but the ones who had loved them would never forget.

And would never be the same.

Danny bypassed the front section of the paper altogether and instead sought out the classifieds. Opening it up to the area devoted to death notices and memorials, he quickly located the ones that he and Sam, along with Lindsay's parents and Flack's mom and dad had made up and sent in just days before. The ones from both sets of parents were short and simple. Lamenting the loss of their daughter and son and telling them how much they loved them and would never forget them. Danny, although chosen something short and sweet, had placed a picture of Lindsay in the paper, along with the Italian words Io L'amero sempre. Io non La dimenticherò mai.

_I will always love you. I will never forget you._

He'd also put one in for Flack. Just expressing his sorrow at the loss of his best friend. Who Danny had called, the greatest most loving man he ever knew.

Above that, was Sam's heartfelt, and heartbreaking contribution. Declaring that he was the love of her life and her best friend. Her sun and moon and stars. Her everything. And then finishing it off with a verse from the favourite Garth Brook's song, The Dance.

_Looking back on the memory of  
The dance we shared beneath the stars above,  
For a moment, all the world was right.  
How could I have known that you'd ever say goodbye?  
And now I'm glad I didn't know  
The way it all would end, the way it all would go.  
Our lives are better left to chance.  
I could have missed the pain,  
But I'd have had to miss the dance._

Danny's eyes filled with tears as he read those lyrics. And at the words: You'd be so proud of your son, that she had had added as post script.

_When is this ever going to get easier?_ Danny thought, as he folded the newspaper and tossed it aside and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his olive green Henley shirt. _When am I going to miss them as much as I do? When will the day come when I can sleep at night without dreaming about them? When I can get up in the morning and not think about them?_

_When I will stop being so angry and get on with my life?_

Behind him, he heard the slight rustling of paper coming from the kitchen, along with a soft, lonely whimpering noise. Grabbing the pack of smokes and the lighter that sat alongside of him and his empty mug, Danny ducked underneath the ledge of the open window and climbed back into his apartment. He rinsed the mug and set it in the sink and tossed the smokes and lighter on the breakfast bar before walking over to the cardboard box that sat in the middle of the kitchen floor.

"How ya doing this morning, buddy?" he asked the eight week old Puggle puppy that took up residence in the box.

When one of the lab techs had come in a three days ago announcing that her mother's dog had puppies and they were free to good homes, Danny couldn't resist the sweet little faces when the young woman had shown him a picture she'd snapped with her Iphone. He had an excellent home in store for one of them. One where he not only be given lots of love, but give tons of it back into the home himself. So he'd gladly accepted one of the tiny beige Pug and Beagle mixed puppies and had kept it at his place until he was ready to give the thing away. His next door neighbour had been gracious enough to care for it while he worked.

Danny had grown rather attached to it, and was slightly saddened at having to give it away. But he had hope that maybe, just maybe, that little dog would bring a source of great comfort to someone who so desperately needed it.

"Come here you spoiled little brat," he said, as he reached into the box to scoop the puppy out.

He scratched its ears and under its chin and rubbed its belly. Receiving a face full of affectionate licks for his effort. He carried the dog under one arm as he went to the sink and grabbed a cereal bowl from the dish rack and filled it with cold water from the tap. Then he grabbed the box of dry kibble sitting nearby and poured it directly onto the counter and set the animal down.

"Enjoy," he said and leaned against the counter and kept a close eye on the puppy as he ate and drank enthusiastically. Smiling as the little dog paused mid meal and looked up at him and nudged his arm with his cold, wet nose. "Make sure you bring your A-game to your new home," he said with a laugh. "Guy who lived there before had absolutely no game. Time for you to set the bar high."

The puppy returned to his meal.

_Time for the healing to begin,_ Danny thought. Hoping and praying that that tiny and innocent animal an all the love he had to give, was just the thing Samantha Flack needed to set her on the road to repair.

* * *

It was quarter to nine when Danny Messer pulled into the driveway of the modest, red brick two and a half storey home in Flushing, Queens. The black GMC Yukon had once belonged to Flack. In his will, it had stated that Danny receive the vehicle if anything ever happened to him. Danny had known nothing about it until three weeks after his death, Sam had asked him to come to the lawyer's with her for the reading of Flack's last will and testament. In it, Sam had been named executor of his estate and the sole beneficiary of his life insurance policy, pension pay out, and the savings account that he had opened the day before his wedding. Danny wasn't entirely sure how much money Samantha actually got. She didn't talk about it and he didn't ask. But he knew it was more than enough to sustain her and now their child on top of paying off the mortgage on their house and all of their outstanding death. Mixed in with the settlement that each family member of someone aboard the doomed airliner was going to be receiving in less than three months, and Danny knew that Samantha Flack probably wouldn't have to work for a long time.

If ever.

Danny and Lindsay hadn't been as lucky financially. Lindsay hadn't had a life insurance policy on herself and he wasn't entitled to her pension payout because they weren't legally married yet. Her parents received the cash and had originally threatened to take him to court over the money he was going to be receiving from the airline. He'd offered to give them half just to get them off his back. Them fighting over blood money made him sick to his stomach. There wasn't enough money in the world to help him get over the loss of his one and only true love. And if it wasn't for the fact that the cash was going to come in handy and he believe in his heart of hearts that the airline should be responsible, he would have told her parents to take it and shove it up their asses.

The gift of the SUV from his deceased best friend had shocked him more than anything. And when he'd gone to the airport parking lot -where the vehicle had sat for three weeks- he'd cried the moment he'd slipped inside. Flack was all around him. An empty coffee cup sitting in the holder between the seats, an ultrasound picture of his unborn child tucked into the corner of the sun visor. All his Cds were still in the spot where he'd left them. As was a nearly full pack of nicotine gum. Flack had vowed to kick the habit as soon as Sam found out she was expecting. In the passenger's seat was an NYPD sweatshirt that Flack had either just decided to leave there or he'd forgotten. In the back was a CCM hockey bag and two sticks and a knapsack full of clean clothes. And seeing all of Flack's things sitting there like that and knowing his best friend would never come and collect them, broke Danny's heart. He'd rested his forehead on the steering wheel and bawled like a baby for nearly an hour.

A year later, he was standing in the Flacks' driveway and pulling a small pet carrier out of the back seat. He'd stopped in at Pet Smart when he realized the cardboard box just wasn't going to cut it. He'd also bought the dog a pink leash with rhinestones that sparkled along the collar, enough food to last a few weeks, and a feeding dish and water bowl. Carrying the whimpering puppy in one hand and the shopping bag in the other, he shut the SUV door with his hip and headed up the front walk.

He frowned at the sight of the overgrown front lawn. It had been two weeks since he'd last mowed it and it was a complete disaster. He made a mental note to get to it before the day was up, and to fix the loose railing that led up the front steps. The mailbox was overflowing. Important letters and useless fliers sticking out of it and tumbling to the ground. A week's worth of newspapers were tossed on the front porch.

"Where the fuck are the in laws?" he murmured.

It made no sense why Don Flack Sr couldn't at least tend to his daughter in law once in a while. The man was in excellent shape for his age. On top of that, he and his wife Patricia, lived directly behind the home his daughter in law and infant grandson resided in. Flack Jr had even gone so far as putting a gate in the middle of the fence that separated their backyards so the two families could go back and forth easily.

Danny grabbed all of the mail and shoved it into the plastic bag he carried, then fished the house key out of the pocket of his baggy jeans. He let himself into the home, grimacing at the musty air that greeted him as he closed the door behind him.

"Sam!" he called, as he toed off his shoes. "You around?"

"I'm upstairs!" she responded. "With the baby."

"You need anything?" he asked from the bottom of the stairs.

"Uh…some juice or something to drink would be nice," she replied.

"Your wish is my command," Danny assured her, and headed through the living room and down the narrow hall towards the kitchen.

Appearances wise, Samantha seemed to be coping quite well. The house was always clean, the laundry was always done. There was always food in the fridge and cupboards. But he knew that both he and Adam had a huge part in that. And that the mother in law always made sure there was food at the ready.

"What in the hell…" Danny said aloud, when he opened the fridge door and found it completely stocked. Frowning when he realized after a quick glance, that the majority of the stuff was virtually unused and expired. Meaning either Samantha ordered in a lot, or wasn't eating well.

He suspected the latter.

He snagged a bottle of blackberry and grape flavoured vitamin water. But only after he picked up the carton of milk and took one sniff and nearly threw up at how sour it was.

This shit has got to stop, he thought with a heavy sigh, as he carried the vitamin water and the dog carrier out of the room and down the hall once more. If Samantha wasn't eating, she wasn't healthy. And if she wasn't healthy, then the baby wasn't going to be either. Plain and simple. And Danny had made a promise to Flack that he would take care of her. And goddamnit, he was not going to break it. No matter how much of a fight the stubborn little bitch put up.

"You know, Brooklyn," he said, as climbed the stairs and headed down the hall towards the nursery. "If you want me to be the chef, you're going to have to start paying me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," came the response. "I'm eating."

"Don't give me that shit," Danny said, as he laid the pet carrier down by the door and went to step into the nursery. "I know that you're not…"

All words escaped him as he took one foot into the doorway and stopped. Taken back by the beauty of the image before him. Or a mother rocking her baby as he lay snuggled close to her chest. The sunlight streaming into the room and bathing them in a ethereal glow. The natural red highlights in Sam's hair sparkling brilliantly as her dark, waist length tresses fell over her shoulders and framed her face. A peaceful, content smile on her lips as she rested her cheek on her son's head.

"Good morning, mommy," Danny greeted in a soft voice.

She looked towards the doorway and smiled. "Good morning."

He could tell, by the puffiness and redness of her eyes, that it hadn't been a good morning at all.

"How's he doing?" Danny asked in a near whisper as he tiptoed into the room.

"He's doing great," she replied, placing a tender kiss to the baby's temple and stroking his black hair. "He slept a whole six hours straight."

"He did? That's awesome," Danny praised, as he laid a gentle hand on his godson's back. "Maybe he's getting out of that every three hours thing."

"Maybe…" she said. "Or maybe it was just a fluke."

"You never know," Danny told her, and bending down, pressed his lips to the baby's forehead. Grinning at those tiny eyelids flickered open and big blue eyes looked up at him. "You little stinker," he said. "You were playing games with Uncle D, weren't ya?"

DJ gave a large, loud yawn.

"How are you doing today?" Sam asked, searching her friend's blue eyes with her golden brown ones.

Danny shrugged. "I'm alright. You?"

"It's been hard," she admitted. "I'm trying not to…" she sighed and looked down at her baby. "I'm trying to be strong for him. But I had a little break down earlier."

"That's okay," Danny assured her. "Perfectly normal. It's a year anniversary. No one said it would be easy. I was thinking that we could spend the day together? I can take you for lunch? We can all go for a walk through Central Park afterwards? Maybe take him to the zoo?"

"I don't know…" she said. "I don't really feel like going out, Danny."

"Come on. It's a beautiful day outside. Look at the sun. The bright blue sky. All those huge, puffy white clouds. It's an amazing late May day. How could you not want to go outside on a day like this?"

"The weather was exactly like this when I watched D…" she caught herself before the name could slip out. "When I watched him leave the house. I stood on the front porch and watched him walk away from me. I watched him get in the car and drive away. I watched him leave and he never came back and I…"

"And you're doing just fine," Danny told her. "And it will do you a world of good to get out. You and the little guy need to breath fresh air. Get out into the sunlight. You haven't set foot out of this house in a long while. And don't tell me you have 'cause I'll call you a damn liar, Brooklyn."

"Please don't tell me you came here to criticize me," she said, near tears.

"I would never, ever criticize you and you know that. I came to spend the day with the two of you. To be around the people I love and who love me. Trust me, Sam. It will do you some good to get out. We'll go to TGIF's. We used to go there all the time when you were working. I'll even buy you a virgin Singapore Sling. Come on. How can you resist that? I'll even spring and buy you the biggest ass chocolate sundae you've ever seen."

She smiled at that. "Okay…" she agreed reluctantly.

"How about you let me spend some time with the little guy here," Danny said, holding his hands out, an indication for her to hand him the baby. "I'll watch him and you go and get a shower and dressed and all that. Sound good?"

She nodded and passed him the infant before rising slowly to her feet.

"Come here, little Flack," Danny said as he settled his godson along his right forearm. "Uncle D hasn't seen you in a bit. How about we give mommy a little break and I get you all cleaned up and into some clothes?"

"Danny, you don't have to…"

"I want to," he interrupted Sam, smiling at her as she headed for the door.

"I was wondering if you could do something for me later," she said, her fingers curling around the door handle.

"Anything B. You know that."

"I have this wooden shelf I want to put up over DJ's crib. I want to put a picture on it. A picture of D…of his father."

"I can do that," Danny said, smiling down at his best friend's namesake and running a hand over the baby's hair. "And Sammie…" he spoke in a gentle tone. "His father had a name, you know."

"I know," she said with a heavy sigh. A sad sigh. "I just can't…I'm sorry, Danny. I just can't say his name. I know that must make me sound like a horrible person. He was my husband and I love him so much and I miss him terribly. I just can't…"

"It's okay," he assured her, giving her a tender smile. "I'm the last person you need to defend yourself to."

She returned the smile and pushed her hair behind her ears. "I'm going to go and get cleaned up. You're okay with him?"

"Am I okay with him," Danny laughed. "I am more then okay with my godson. No worries mommy. Just go and take care of yourself, a'right?"

She nodded.

"Wait!" Danny called as she went to step out of the room. "I've got a surprise for you."

"You do?"

He nodded and crossed the room. "Go out in the hall and look down," he instructed, as he stepped out of the room behind her.

"Danny…what….?" her eyes widened at the sight of the pet carrier. "Oh my God…" she breathed and dropped to her knees. "What did you do? Seriously Danny. What did you do?"

"Look inside," he chuckled.

She peered into the carrier. And for the first time in a year, a genuine smile lit up her face. "A puppy!" she cried. "You bought me a puppy!"

"It's a Puggle," he told her, as she excitedly snapped open the closures on the front door. "A pug and a beagle hooked up and that was the results. It's a girl."

"Come here, little one," she spoke to the animal in a tender voice as she reached into the carrier and pulled the puppy out. "Aren't you just the sweetest little thing!" she exclaimed, cradling the dog in her arms as she sat back on her heels. "Danny! I can't believe you did this! She's precious! I love her! Thank you!"

"Don't mention it," he said, and then laughed as the puppy bathed Sam's face in kisses. Bringing forth that musical giggle that no one had heard from Samantha Flack in a long time. Tears welled in Danny's eyes at the sight of her so happy. "Now you just need to think of a name for her," he said.

"I don't need to think of a name," Sam told him, stroking the puppy's fur. "I have the perfect one already picked up. One that means so much to me."

"What are you going to call her?" he asked. Anxious to hear the answer.

Sam smiled brightly and held the puppy out at arm's length.

"Welcome to my little family, Montana," she said.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone that reviewed the first chapter (some of you doing so for a second time) and put it on their faves and alerts! I hope to hear from all of you again! This story is my side project at the moment and I have huge plans for it and I hope you guys all stick around to see what those plans are! So please, please, please R and R folks! Makes my day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY DJ.**

**A/N: THANKS FOR ALL OF THE SUPPORT! AND WELCOME TO THE READERS WHO DIDN'T JOIN US FOR THE RIDE THE FIRST TIME AROUND!**

* * *

**A team effort**

"When all our tears have reached the sea  
Part of you will live in me  
Way down deep inside my heart  
The days keep coming without fail  
A new wind is gonna find your sail  
That's where your journey starts

Just like the waves down by the shore  
We're gonna keep on coming back for more  
'cause we don't ever wanna stop  
Out in this brave new world you seek  
Oh the valleys and the peaks  
And I can see you on the top

Remember me when you're out walkin  
When the snow falls high outside your door  
Late at night when you're not sleepin'  
And moonlight falls across your floor  
When I can't hurt you anymore  
You'll find better love  
Strong as it ever was  
Deep as the river runs  
Warm as the morning sun  
Please remember me."  
-Please Remember Me, Tim McGraw

* * *

The vivid blue sky and the brilliant, warm sun was a stark contrast to the solemn, dark cloud that hovered over the heads of the nearly four hundred souls that converged on the lush green farmer's field located in Loudoun County in northern Virginia. The weather had been beautiful all weeks. The ground was dry and a the grass a rich, stunning emerald green. A cool, stiff breeze tousled the trees in the distance and rippled the two hundred and sixty two small American flags that were placed in a shape of a heart over the scene of the airplane disaster a year ago. Tour buses had picked up those attending the memorial service from the convention centre in Fairfax. Most family members and loved ones had come from out of state and had had their accommodations in surrounding hotels and bed and breakfasts' by the local chapter of the Red Cross. The environment on the bus had been one of warmth and fond remembrance. Strangers brought together by a moment of sudden and profound loss. Pictures were passed around proudly and stories were shared that brought out anxious laughter.

And many tears were shed. It may have been a year ago, but to those people on the bus, their grief and pain were so great that it seemed as if the crash had occurred just yesterday. Many had a hard time accepting and moving on. Never receiving their family members remains and not having a proper burial prevented some from fully dealing with the hand that they had been dealt. There were women with babies and small children aboard, elderly parents and grandparents. Life mates and significant others. Aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters. Friends and colleagues. No one knew each other yet they were strongly and impenetrably united by that one moment three hundred and sixty days away when their lives as they had known them, simply ceased to exist.

All conversation and nervous laughter had halted the moment the buses pulled up a hundred yards from their destination. As passengers took in collective breaths and prepared themselves for the difficult time that lay ahead of them, Stella Bonasera cast a glance out of the window next to her and stared out at the flags dotting the field in the distance. She wasn't prepared for the service. In no way was she prepared despite the fact all she had to do was lay a rose on the ground under the flag that bore Lindsay's name and simply speak her friend and colleague's name. She was terrified of stepping foot off of the bus. Because the moment her foot touched the road, the moment it all became so real. Every step she took would bring her to the spot where two people she had treasured dearly had lost their lives. The longer she stayed in her seat, the longer the reality of her loss evaded her.

She hadn't fully coped with what had happened. She had gone on with her life. Working and taking joy in the friends she considered her family. Enjoying sunsets and sunrises and stopping to smell the roses more often. She laughed longer and loved harder. She was quick to forgive as opposed to being quick to fight. She got up every morning and put on foot in front of the other because it was pertinent that she went on. She couldn't simply curl up in a ball and die. She was still alive. Her lungs still drew breath and blood flowed through her veins. She had to live. Lindsay and Flack didn't get that luxury. And it was for them that she treasured every day to the fullest.

But going on with her life didn't mean she had forgotten them, or accepted that they were gone forever. She could still see Lindsay's soft smile and hear her laugh. She could still see Flack's grin. The one that brought out the dimples in his cheeks and made his blue eyes sparkle. She could still see Lindsay standing in her office door, telling her that she needed a friend. She could still hear herself calling the younger woman kiddo. And she could still see Flack sitting there at the side of her hospital bed. His eyes and face gentle, his voice betraying a tenderness that she had never known he possessed as he questioned her about Frankie's death.

Most of all she remember the fun times outside of work. The nights that the team went out together on the town and she and Lindsay and Sam, after having one too many alcoholic beverages, would get up on the dance floor or even on tables and chairs and dance to whatever music the DJ was blaring that night. When Sam and Lindsay got together and booze was tossed in the mix, they had a way of entertaining an entire bar with their antics. Sam was usually the instigator. She'd be the first one up on a chair or the one who'd climb on the bar and do her best Coyote Ugly girl impersonation. Lindsay had been a little more reserved the first couple of times. Shaking her head and blushing at her best friend's antics. But it wasn't long before the Brooklyn girl corrupted the Bozeman, Montana one. They had quickly become kindred spirits. Sharing secrets and fighting crime. Stella often felt like the big sister. The one in charge of supervising the other two. But for the most part, she felt nothing but love for, and from the two women.

She recalled the shopping excursions and lunches and dinners with both Lindsay and Sam. And those with just Lindsay before Sam had come to New York City from Phoenix. She remembered sipping lattes and chatting amicably as they walked slowly through Central Park. Lindsay had always loved walking through the park in the fall. She had revelled in the crispness of the air and the beauty of the vibrant leaves on the trees.

She smiled as she remembered the morning Lindsay had came running down the hallway of the lab towards her, breathless and full of childlike exuberance. Before Stella had been able to get a single word out of her mouth, the younger, tinier woman had tossed her arms around her and let out the happiest, most girlie shriek that Stella had ever heard come from that Montana girl. Then she'd proceeded to, with tears welling in her eyes and a proud smile plastered across her face, show Stella the ring that Danny had presented her with the night before. Stella had to admit, even now, that while she outwardly expressed excitement and congratulated her friend, she'd been slightly worried about Lindsay Monroe. About whether or not marrying Danny Messer was the right thing for her to do. After all the hurt and suffering he'd put her through, Stella was scared that Lindsay was only setting herself up for more anguish.

She was happy, and relieved to admit that she'd been completely wrong. Danny had turned over a new leaf and worshipped the ground Lindsay had walked on. They were insanely happily and disgustingly in love. And although, sadly enough, the wedding had never taken place, Stella was sure that always and forever was something Danny and Lindsay would definitely achieve.

And then there was Flack. Just thinking about his sarcastic, often arrogant way brought a grin to Stella's face. He had been tall, dark and extremely handsome. A popular bachelor within the department, there had always been a constant parade of ladies who were willing, and practically desperate for, his attention. He'd seen his share of disappointment, less then stellar relationships. Devon had been a complete bust. Flack had been nothing more then a pretty face to parade around at black tie events. Someone who could entertain her pampered friends with tales of police work. Angell had been a distraction. He'd been tired of being lonely and had launched himself into a relationship with her in hopes to ease that feeling of emptiness. Their time together had been nothing short of disastrous. She had wanted Mr Right, he had wanted Mrs Right Now. She had wanted the husband and the two and a half kids and the white picket fence. He wanted someone to share his bed at night when he was finished having his time out with the guys.

They had fortunately went their separate ways on good terms. After that, Flack had pledged to be a bachelor for life.

Until little Samantha Ross, who'd been at the lab for a year by then, had stopped being the 'little sister' and he'd begun to look at her in a completely different way. Stella had known that Sam had a thing for Flack from the very beginning. And how hard it had been for the young woman to simply bite her tongue and bide her time while he made his way through Devon and Angell. All the while hoping that one day he'd look at her the same way she looked at him.

And when it finally happened, things had fallen quickly into place for them. Within four months of their first date they were engaged. Eight months later they were married. And eight months after that, they were expecting their first child. Stella could still see that proud smile that had come across Flack's face when he'd come to her office and told her the news.

"Check this out," he'd said as he'd strode into the room and unceremoniously dropped an ultrasound picture on her desk. "That's my kid."

It was such a Flack way of breaking the news. And Stella thought about how she'd looked at that picture -there hadn't really been much to see, even though Flack had pointed out various things that the technician had showed him that very morning- and got to her feet and embraced him warmly. Congratulating him and kissing both of his cheeks before handing him back the picture. And then asking him how he felt.

"Scared to death," he'd admitted, looking down at that photo of his unborn child. "I didn't have that great of a role model when I was growing up. My dad was pretty non existent. Physically and emotionally. I guess I just worry about following that same path."

"Never going to happen," Stella had assured him. "Because you love your wife and your baby. And you wouldn't ever let yourself become like that."

At that he had given a small, tender smile and ran his thumb over the image of his baby before tucking it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

And then he was Flack again. All business.

_God I miss them, _Stella thought, closing her eyes as passengers slid past her down the aisle. She was prolonging the inevitable. But she needed those final moments. To get her thoughts in order before she set foot outside. _I miss them so much. _

* * *

Adam Ross had lost a brother that day.

He wasn't entirely sure when he and Flack had reached the point in their relationship when things progressed from simple brothers in law, to Adam considering the burly, often terrifying homicide detective one of his dearest friends and confidants. Before anything had ever developed between his older sister and who would be her future husband, Adam had spent little time around Flack. There'd never been a cause for their paths to cross. Flack would always be hanging around up in the lab, but spent his majority of his time with the CSIs and very rarely mingling with the lowly lab techs. And Adam had been grateful for that. He'd seen a couple of occasions where Flack, not impressed with the lack of progress on a case, had stormed into one of the labs and ripped into the unsuspecting technician until they were near tears.

That had never happened to Adam, and he'd been grateful for that. He had however, had a slight run in with the detective when rumours of his relationship with Samantha had begun to travel around the lab. It had unnerved him hearing gossip about his older sister, and he confronted her about it in the locker room. He had been hoping that what he was hearing was just rumours. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the fact that she was dating someone that they worked with. Office romances were disastrous. There was no other word to describe it. People couldn't mind their own business and loved nothing better then to yap about who was sleeping with who and who wanted to be sleeping with who. It was petty, immature nonsense and Adam didn't want his sister being any part of it. So it had shocked him, and emotionally wounded him, when she had admitted that she was involved with Detective Flack. And it had been at that point, for nearly two months.

Adam had said some nasty, off handed things to her that day. About her poor choice in men and how she was going to end up lonely and heartbroken. Just another notch on Flack's bedpost. He had heard other gossip about the detective in his time at the lab, and Adam sure as hell didn't want his sister being part of any talk. And he was disappointed, and told her so, that she hadn't come to him and told him that she was dating someone. They had always told each other everything. Their bond had always been so strong. Unbreakable. They had survived the torment and agony that their birth father had put them through because they'd stuck together. A team. And it hurt him to think that she'd kept something so important from him.

"Do you blame me?" she asked when he finished his rant. Tears had been sparkling in her eyes, but her voice was low and void of any emotion. "I knew this was how you were going to act. I knew you'd freak out about it. Because you can't stand the thought of me with anyone. It doesn't matter that it's Don. Any guy pisses you off. But guess what? I love him and he loves me. And that's just the way it is."

She had stormed away from him and never spoke to him for three days. At work she avoided being in the general vicinity of him and off the clock she refused to return any of his calls and wouldn't answer the door to his knocking despite the fact he could hear her moving around inside of the apartment.

It had been Flack who'd put the end to the insanity. He'd waited until Adam was alone in the AV lab and had walked in, closing the door behind and stared down at the lab tech with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes blazing.

"I don't know what the hell you said to Sammie, but she's been a wreck for three days," the detective had informed him. "And she doesn't get upset for no reason. So I know you said something to her that really bothered her."

"I just told the truth," Adam had responded, inwardly frightened about what Flack may to do him for being so honest. "I just told her that I didn't like the two of you together."

"And our relationship is your business because…"

"Because she's my sister and I don't want her to get hurt. And I've heard some thing about you and I…"

Flack had laughed at that. And rolled his eyes. Then had had laid one hand on the back of Adam's chair and the other on the work station and had leaned in real close to the younger man, the humour in his eyes leaving just as quick as it had arrived. And being replaced by sheer irritation. "Look, Ross," he'd said, in a low and serious voice. "I like you. You're an alright guy. But I love your sister. And I'm not about go screwing around behind her back and fucking up the best thing that has ever happened to me. She's my world. And you need to get your head wrapped around that. Because I'm not going anywhere. Understand me?"

Adam had done little more then maintain solid eye contact with the other man and swallow noisily.

"And the next time you hear bullshit about me, Ross, you should really consider the source," Flack had said, as he'd stood up and headed for the door. "And you should have the balls to come to me and ask what's true and what's not. I'm not THAT scary."

Adam had begged to differ with that.

"Don't believe everything you hear," the detective had told him, then simply stepped out of the room.

Adam had never forgot that moment between them. After that, Sam and him had done the proverbial kissing and making out, and although it had been difficult accepting his sister's relationship, and seeing her and Flack as a couple outside of work -really, what guy wanted to see his sister hugging and kissing someone? - he had quickly come to realize that Samantha was happy. She laughed more and smiled constantly. Her notorious level of distrust for anyone slowly dissipated. She had become content and light-hearted. And it had been Flack who'd been the one to thank for her transformation.

Once they became engaged, Adam had made a conscious decision to get to know Flack better. The man was, after all, going to be his brother in law. He was, more than likely, going to be the father of Adam's nieces and nephews. While they didn't have much in common, they had started meeting once a week for a few drinks after work. They shared pitchers of beer and baskets of wings and a pizza. At first, they'd remained relatively silent during their outings. Flack was into sports, Adam wasn't. Flack was a cop with a lot of years on the force under his belt. He'd seen many a horrific, brutal thing and Adam had lived a relatively sheltered professional life. The only thing that they had in common was Samantha. And it was through talking about her that had opened up the gates to a friendship. Adam realized, as Flack talked about her with his eyes and face glowing that the detective was in the relationship with nothing but good intentions. And in turn, seeing and hearing him so loyal to his sister, had made Adam open up about the treatment they'd suffered at the hands of their father. Flack was trust worthy. He didn't go back and tell people things he discussed with someone. He didn't judge or criticize you. He listened intently, nodding in understanding or shaking his head in disgust. And at the end of it all, when Adam was emotionally drained from the confessions and wiping away his tears, Flack had reached across the table and laid a hand on the top of future brother in law's head.

Adam had sniffled noisily and had been compelled to look up. Taken back by the compassion and understanding in those electric blue eyes that seemed to bore into Adam's very soul.

"What doesn't kill us will make us stronger," Flack had said. "I really believe that. Look at me. I had my stomach blown wide open in a bomb. I had pieces of the fucking thing lodged in my chest. It took me months to get to even seventy five percent. There were times the pain was so bad in therapy I wished I was dead. But I'm here. I got through it. And if I hadn't, look at what I would have missed out on. I met the love of my life. Had I given up, there would have been no me and Sam. And being with her is the best decision I ever made in my entire life."

It was then and there that Adam had come to the conclusion that his sister was marrying the one man in the world would always treasure her and adore her. And give her the sense of protection and security she so secretly craved.

He had fond memories of Lindsay as well. She had been a good friend and a great person to work with. He had always gotten a kick out of how close she and Sam had been. The giggles that could be heard clear down the halls as the two women worked together in lay out or re-creation. They were kindred souls through and through. Trusting each other with their deepest and darkest of secrets. Spending way too much money when they went out shopping together. Drinking way too much whenever they hit the bars. Being way too much for the guys to handle on the best of days. He could still see Lindsay and Sam sitting at a table in the employee lunch room, eating a bag of Oreo cookies while hunched over a Cosmo magazine. Laughing and chatting noisily as they read through the sex tips. Sharing stories about what they had, and hadn't done. He remembered, very vividly, sticking his head in the re-creation room and laughing at the site of the two of them, wearing jumpsuits and face shields as Sam prepared to take a baseball bat to the head of a dummy filled with blood.

"Hit it like a pinata!" Lindsay had encouraged. "Or hit it like you wish you could hit Flack when he comes out with those nasty, sarcastic comments!"

Sam had taken a mighty swing and 'blood' had spattered all over the two tiny women. For some reason, both had gotten a kick out of the fact that they were covered head to toe in the red liquid.

"Do it again!" Lindsay had cried, her eyes bright and a massive grin on her face. "I don't think we got the spatter pattern we wanted!"

"You just want to live vicariously through me and pretend it's Danny I'm beating up," Sam had laughed.

They had taken three more hits at that mannequin before getting their fill of blood and gore. And then had spotted Adam standing in the doorway watching the two of them.

"Your turn!" Lindsay had yelled, and snatching the bat from Sam's hand, had proceeded to chase Adam out of the room and down the hallway.

His greatest memory however, was of Halloween just past. Danny had refused to attend a costume party with her and with Sam and Stella working and no one else having the balls to dress up, Adam had gone along for pure shits and giggles. He had rented a Robin Hood costume to match up with Lindsay's Maid Marion get up and off they had went to the Waldorf Astoria for the evening. It had honestly been one of the most fun and relaxing nights he had ever experienced. They had taken part in the silent auction -he'd bid high enough to win her a day at one of Manhattan's elite spas- and she'd put in enough bucks to secure him an autographed picture of Batman creator Stan Lee. They had danced and laughed and drank way too much champagne. Leaving the hotel just before one in the morning, swaying slightly from the booze they had consumed, Lindsay had announced that she was hungry. So off they had gone to the twenty four hour Dunkin' Donuts around the corner. Where they'd sat for two hours sipping hot chocolate and filling their faces with éclairs and cherry danish and pink sprinkle donuts. And sharing memories about their respective childhoods and their experiences in the New York City crime lab.

Afterwards, Adam had walked her home. Right up to her apartment door. Lindsay had paused before putting her key in the lock and had called to him before he had made it to the elevator.

"Come here for a second, Adam," she'd crooked her finger and motioned for him to approach. When he was standing in front of her once more, she'd stood on her tiptoes and laid her hands on his shoulders and kissed both of his cheeks. "You are going to make some lucky girl very, very happy one day," she declared.

Less then seven full months later, Lindsay Monroe and Donald Flack Jr were gone. Adam had been robbed of a great friend and a brother.

It had taken all of two minutes for his life to be shattered.

Now, a year to the day of their deaths, Adam found himself beside Stella on that slowly emptying tour bus, his eyes screwed tightly shut as he fought to regain his composure. He had promised himself that he would be strong. That he wouldn't break down. That he'd walk across the field and do what he had to do and get back on that bus and head home. In his hands, he clutched a single white rose and a computer printed picture of his infant nephew with the words I love you Daddy written on the bottom of it. When his and Stella's names were called, Adam would place both of those items under the flag that bore his brother in law's name and step up to a podium and speak Flack's name.

If he could even get the words out of his mouth.

* * *

Beside him, Stella cleared her throat noisily and moved in her seat. "Adam?" she asked in a quiet and comforting voice.

He opened his eyes and looked over at her. Realizing that the bus was empty save for themselves and their chaperone that was standing at the front, watching them with sympathy, and a little impatience, in her eyes.

"It's time," Stella said with a tender smile as she stood up and moved into the aisle. "It's time to go."

Adam nodded and sniffled noisily and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his blue and white stripped shirt. He looked down at the objects in his hand. Managing a smile as he gazed upon the picture of his nephew. His heart breaking at the thought of that innocent little baby never meeting the man who was his namesake. Who was partly responsible for giving him life.

Sighing heavily, Adam stood as well and slid out into the aisle. Following behind Stella as they headed for the door.

"Are you ready?" she asked, pausing before descending the bus steps to look back at him. Reaching back for his hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze. "Are you ready for this?"

He shook his head. "I'll never be ready to say goodbye," he said.

* * *

Thousands of miles away, Mac Taylor sat behind his desk in the New York City crime lab. His office door was closed. In attempt to drown out the intrusion of the outside world as he sat reading that day's copy of the New York Times. It had been a difficult year. He hadn't just lost two valuable employees that day. He had lost two people that he had grown fond of him. That he'd become accustomed to seeing each and every day. Both of whom, in their completely different styles, had always managed to lighten the mood in someway. He remembered Lindsay with her bright and bubbly personality and her knack for springing experiments on him. He would never, ever forget the time she smeared an experimental, smell altering chemical under his nose before making him take a whiff of hydrogen sulfide, of the time she made him bite into a peeled onion after making him try out a berry capable of altering taste.

But the moment he remembered the most had nothing to do with experiments or odd little stories. It had to with something far more personal. After Quinn Shelby had reported to him on the error in protocol Lindsay had made by leaving evidence out after a minor falling out with Danny, Mac had found himself in the CSI garage, standing by while Lindsay locked herself in the trunk of the car. Proving to him a discovery she'd made earlier. That the small piece of plastic earlier found in Chrissy Watson's hand had been the emergency release lever from a car trunk.

But it hadn't been all business at that moment. It had been the concern he had felt for her. He had felt like a father who was standing back and watching his daughter fall apart because of a disintegrating relationship. He was worried, not only for lab's integrity, but for Lindsay's emotional state as well. He didn't care if she and Danny did or did not have a relationship. What he cared about was her handling it in a manner that was healthy for both herself, and her work. He wanted professionalism. People who could separate their personal lives from their jobs. And he been relatively lenient with her. Even if, in his own admission, he'd been much harsher in his criticism of Doctor Sheldon Hawkes years earlier when his phone number had been found on a victim and he'd neither told Mac, or pulled himself off of the case.

It had been a year since the lab had been robbed of a fine CSI. Mac had made do in the last three hundred and sixty five days by using workers lent to him by the New Jersey Crime Lab. But now, now it was time to move on. To start on a new path with a new employee. He'd gone ahead and hired a CSI -a well respected young man who came with years of experience and phenomenal references from his co-worker and superiors- from Las Vegas. He was happy to be getting out of the desert. Out from under the dark shadows of personal loss and unshakable grief that plagued him.

Sighing heavily, Mac flipped the paper over and found himself staring down at the picture of Flack. The young homicide detective was all smiles and full of life. His eyes sparkling, a ball cap turned backwards on his head. Mac recognized it as a picture that had once graced the inside of Samantha Flack's locker. It had originally been a group shop. She and Flack along with Danny and Lindsay. Taken two summers ago at the annual Fourth of July NYPD/FDNY charity baseball game and picnic. Danny and Flack had had their arms curled around their girlfriends shoulders and Sam and Lindsay, with their own ball caps on and Sam's hair in braided pigtails, had had their arms around their boyfriends' waists. It had been a fun day. A lot of laugh and a lot of memories.

Mac missed Flack. He revealed the depth of his grieve to no one, but deep down, the loss of Detective Don Flack had hit Mac hard. Maybe it was because years before he had saved Flack's life in that bombed out building. Because he'd stuck his hands into that gaping stomach wound and used a dirty shoe lace to tie off that severed artery. Because he'd held Flack's hand as he stood by the side of the younger man's hospital bed. Asking the detective to squeeze his hand. Searching for some kind of sign that Flack was going to be alright. That he was going to turn that very sharp corner between life and death. And Mac could still recall the relieve that had swept through him when Flack's long fingers had curled around his hand.

Flack had never mentioned the fact that Mac had saved his life, and Mac didn't want any kind of thanks or recognition. Once Flack had returned to work, they'd gone back to their professional relationship almost as if nothing ever happened. Things were good. Flack was going some of the best detective work Mac had ever seen him through himself into. But where there was good, there was really, really bad. The Dean Truby/log book fiasco would be something that Mac would never forget. Nor would his mind ever wash out that lost little boy look Flack had had on his face when Mac had come to collect his notes on that infamous drug raid. It had caused strain between the two of them for some time. Flack was being harassed by other cops. He was called a rat and made to feel like half a cop. All because he'd done the right thing.

Things had, in the end, worked out. It had been Flack that Mac had confided in first about the 333 caller. It had been Flack that had expressed concern and offered to do an intel threat assessment because he was worried Mac's life may have been in danger. And it had been Flack he had told about Peyton deciding to stay in London. Mac could still see the sympathy and understanding in the younger man's eyes.

Mac realized, as other memories surged through his brain -Flack showing up in Chicago, Mac personally handing the detective back his badge after the Todd Flemming/IAB nightmare, that Flack had played a rather large roll in his life. There were too many moments to go into depth about. He just knew that he had appreciated the younger man. For all of his hard work and for the dry wit and humour he brought to the table.

He thought of the last time he saw Flack. It was the night before the detective was scheduled to take off with Lindsay on their trip to Virginia. Flack had come, at the end of his shift, to tell Mac about the baby. He had sat down in the empty chair that Mac now stared at and told the older man that he was going to be a father. And that he was terrified of the thought. Excited, but terrified.

"You were terrified when you got married too," Mac had reminded him. "I remember how bad you were shaking up at the alter. And how I didn't think you were going to get through it in one piece."

Flack had grinned at that. "But I got through it," he'd said. "And it was the best thing I ever did. Marrying Sammie was the most amazing moment of my life. And this baby…this baby is the greatest achievement of my life. I don't want to screw that up."

"You won't," Mac had assured him. "You've got a lot of love inside of you, Don. You're going to be an amazing father."

Mac had meant every word. And they had said and chatted for several more minutes. Flack had brought out the ultrasound picture and showed it off, a proud smile on his face. And then he'd headed for the door, pausing just before stepping out into the hall.

"See ya in a few days, Mac," he'd said. "No blowing up the crime lab while I'm gone."

Mac had smirked. "See you, Don."

"I guess all the lab techs are happy. I won't be around to make them piss and crap themselves."

And with that, Flack had laughed and turned and headed out of Mac's office.

If I'd only known, Mac thought a year later, as he looked down at that picture before him. There would have been so much more I would have said.

If I'd only known…

* * *

Doctors Sid Hammerback and Sheldon Hawkes stood across from each other in autopsy. Separated by the John Doe that lay on the cold metal slab before them. COD had been discussed -blunt force trauma to the occupit- and trace evidence passed from one hand to the other. Yet neither man were in a hurry to move as they stared in silence at the victim. Caught up in their own memories of the colleagues that they had lost. Sid thought about the time in autopsy when Lindsay had revealed she was a country girl.

"You think Danny calls me Montana because I'm a Forty-Niners fan?" she'd asked.

"He calls you that because he had a crush on you," Sid had responded.

Those words had proven true over the years.

Hawkes thought about the time in Rupert Lanigan's magic shop when Flack had popped off his Houdini question. Hawkes had been both been taken by surprised, and somewhat embarrassed that Flack was actually engaging him in that kind of conversation. It had been a source of laughter between them in the following years. Every so often Flack would walk by him in the lab and remind Hawkes that he hadn't given him his tutorial lesson in the differences between DNA and RNA yet. And Hawkes would laugh and shake his head and remind the detective that it was indeed the scintillating conversation he was looking for.

But on this day, Hawkes wasn't in the mood for laughing.

"So…" Sid finally spoke, issuing a heavy sigh. "It's been a year."

"It's been a year," Hawkes sadly confirmed.

"Hard to believe," Sid said. "Sometimes it seems like it was just yesterday."

"And yet sometimes it seems like a hundred years ago," Hawkes sighed.

"Adam and Stella went to the memorial service?" Sid asked.

"They left last night," Hawkes replied. "It was nice of them to offer. Danny just didn't want to go. It's too hard for him. And Sam…" his voice trailed off.

"She's having a hell of a time," Sid said, his voice full of sympathy and concern. "Have you seen her lately? Or the baby?"

"I went over there last week," Hawkes told him. "The baby's getting big. He's adorable. Lots of black hair and huge blue eyes. He looks just like his father. He's doing well. But Samantha…" he sighed. "She's coping. Barely sometimes."

"There is no time limit on grief," Sid said, and stepping to the end of the metal slab, pushed it into its storage locker. "She was dealt a horrible blow. All of the families were. It just makes it extra tragic that she was with child when it happened. That little boy will never know his father. It's sad. Very sad."

"It is," Hawkes agreed. "And it's up to us to make sure he does get to know his father."

Sid nodded. "I'll do whatever I can to help the cause," he assured the younger man. "Whatever she needs, please, just let me know. I've tried calling her, but she doesn't return any of my messages. I'd love to see her. And the baby."

"Don't take it personally, Sid. She's like that with all of us. The only person she feels comfortable with is Danny. He spends every waking moment with her. Helps her anyway he can."

"They share a bond," the ME concluded. "Through death, new life emerges. Maybe they're just searching for a way to start that new life."

"Together?" Hawkes cocked an eyebrow.

"My sister died about ten years ago. Her husband hooked up with her very good friend about a year and a half later. And trust me, my sister would have been thrilled it was her friend he picked. Because they were already so close through my sister and they both loved her so much. There's nothing wrong with it. If that's what Danny and Samantha choose to do then…"

"They're just friends," Hawkes cut the other man off. "Trust me. Just friends."

"Only time will tell," Sid said with a shrug. "Whatever happens is their business. If something is there, good for them. If not and they're just friends, well good for them in that respect too. It's really no one's business."

"It would just be hard to accept that. Considering how well we all knew Lindsay and Flack."

"I think if Samantha and Danny can find some sort of happiness after everything they've been through, that we shouldn't question how, when or where they find that," Sid concluded.

Hawkes nodded and held up the trace samples and autopsy report in his hands. "Thanks," he said, and turned and headed quickly from the morgue.

Not prepared to accept that Sid was probably onto something. It was a day to remember those that they had lost.

Not to think about how those left behind were moving on.

* * *

**THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO IS READING, REVIEWING AND ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS! I'VE GOT UP UNTIL CHAPTER 13 SAVED FROM WHEN I REMOVED THE STORY FROM THE SITE THE FIRST TIME AROUND. HOPE YOU WILL ALL STICK AROUND!**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK. AND MONTANA THE PUPPY**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone adding me and this story to alerts and favs. Welcome to all readers, both returning and new!**

**Slight warning: If the thought of Danny moving on with his life offends anyone, this might not be the best chapter for you. There's nothing that really happens, except for talk of getting on with his future. I feel the need to remind people that Lindsay is DEAD. She's not coming back. There will be flashbacks but no resurrections or miracles. And as someone who lost a person that was her entire world and thought she'd never survive that loss, I want to assure some people that loving again and moving on is okay if that's what you choose to do. No one should have to be alone forever. And sometimes you find someone when you least expect it. And sometimes it's who you least expect.**

**Also, this chapter includes small references to canon. And slight, slight spoilers for episodes in season 4 and 5. Just with Sam in certain roles instead of the show's characters. **

* * *

**Notice me**

"So lately, I've been wondering  
Who will be there to take my place  
When I'm gone, you'll need love  
To light the shadows on your face  
If a great wave shall fall  
It would fall upon us all  
And between the sand and stone  
Could you make it on your own?

If I could, then I would  
I'll go wherever you will go  
Way up high or down low  
I'll go wherever you will go

And maybe, I'll find out  
The way to make it back someday  
To watch you, to guide you  
Through the darkest of your days  
If a great wave shall fall  
It would fall upon us all  
Well I hope there's someone out there  
Who can bring me back to you."  
-Wherever You Will Go, The Calling

* * *

They had parked in a city operated lot two blocks from the TGIF restaurant located in midtown Manhattan. After unfolding the black, red and silver Peg Perago stroller and clipping the infant car seat into it, they'd walked slowly to their destination. Exchanging comments about the brilliant blue sky and the exceptionally warm temperatures that advertised that summer was just around the corner. Danny talked about work and the case that he had just completed and an upcoming family reunion that his mother was insisting he attend. He had no desire to spend a day with cousins and aunts and uncles he hadn't seen, or spoken to in years. Or the relatives, who although in the same city, hadn't been bothered to so as much big up the phone or send a card to extend their sympathies after Lindsay's death.

He had always been there for his extended family when they needed him. Lending money, going to their homes and mowing the lawn and doing repairs around or on the house. Taking elderly aunts grocery shopping. Getting ungrateful cousins out of parking tickets or charges of drunk and disorderly. Listening to the uncles who'd served in the golden years of the NYPD bitch and moan about the poor state of the department and the lacklustre cops that were out patrolling the streets. Hearing their 'When I was a cop back in the day' stories drove him completely mental. And when they got onto their chauvinistic 'there's no place for women in the NYPD' crap, it was all he could do to not punch someone in the face. Danny knew a lot of great female cops. Who could handle their own against any perp they came up against. Who handled themselves better then some of the men. Who could kick ass with the best of them, then go and sit down and sympathize with grieving relatives of a murder victim.

Lindsay had been one of those cops. She hadn't been a stellar officer. Not by a long shot. Those were few and far between. She had never pretended to be a top cop or expect to ever become one. She hadn't been the type to swoop in and solve cases all on her own for the sake of showing her colleagues up and then taking all of the credit. She had simply gone to work, day in and day out, and been happy being part of the bigger picture. A team player who had been content to be part of a collective group all out to achieve the same goal.

Samantha Flack was just like her. Sam didn't expect pats on the back or to be ever honoured with awards for Officer of the Year. She worked hard and was tenacious as all hell. She wasn't scared of anyone or anything despite the fact she was tiny enough to fit in someone's pocket. That flying by the seat of her pants personality was often her downfall, but something that was both respected and admired by her colleagues. She wasn't afraid to take chances. She was always ready and willing and able to put herself in situations to benefit the greater good. If Mac needed a lure to catch someone and Sam fit the profile, then Sam was being sent in. Whether it was donning a blond wig in an attempt to nail Suspect X or posing as a newcomer to the Big Apple in order to catch Carolyn Williams and prevent another young woman from being forced into a life as a sex slave, Sam was always there waving her hand in the air and offering to help it. She loved the excitement of it she declared. Danny had always wondered, as had Flack, if she really did it because she just loved seeing her new husband near frantic with worry and pissed off with what he considered reckless behaviour.

Danny still got a kick out of the sheer look of horror that had passed Flack's face when Mac announced that Sam was going to be the lure for Suspect X. They'd just been engaged then, but Flack had come absolutely nuts at the thought of his future wife being out there, putting herself in the proverbial cross-hairs. Mac had humoured him by letting him act as the ghost. Disguised as a city janitor, Flack had been able to kill two birds with one stone. Keep an eye out for Suspect X, and keep a lease on his fiancee. Who, he later admitted, had been hit on by at least five guys because of how damn hot she looked as a blond.

There had been a lot of good times working together as a team. Danny missed the laughs they all shared. He missed Flack's quick wit and the facial expressions that were second to none. There were times that Flack didn't have to say a damn word to get a point or a thought across. The man had a stare, a frown, a smirk or an eye roll or glare for every possible occasion. Half the time, Flack scared perps just by the way he looked at them. And when he did open his mouth, whether it be to offer up a sarcastic, cutting remark or to tear someone another asshole, you were either left in stitches afterwards, or slightly terrified yourself.

Flack's bark had been worse then his bite. Out of work he was surprisingly laid back and low key. He didn't get riled up easily and had the patience of a saint. He let his wife rant and rave. He let her often eccentric personality shine through. He let her be all wild and crazy to an extent and knew exactly when to put his foot down and reign her in. There were times he could be assertive and aggressive if the need arose, and that sarcasm was just a part of him that was always there and you either loved or hated it , but for the most part, the off the clock Don Flack was unassuming and charming. He laughed easily and knew how to have a good time. He treated people with respect but expected it back.

And his greatest achievement in life, self admittedly, was the fact that he'd grown up enough to put his selfish, often eco-centric and slightly obnoxious personality aside and become a husband. He'd managed to grow up. Become a man nearly overnight. He'd gone from trying to -and usually succeeding- sleep with anything, to sharing his life and his bed with just one woman. And he didn't regret ever giving the old Flack up. He liked being married. He had liked having someone to come home to at night. That familiar, warm body in bed next to him. He had liked having one woman that loved him and adored him and respected him. He had liked hearing her voice and her laugh and feeling the touch of her hands and the way her body had felt against his. The smell of her hair and the taste of her lips. He had loved everything that Samantha brought to the table. She wasn't perfect and neither was he. And they had accepted that about each other. They had great times and really, really, really shitty times. But they had survived.

And they had loved each other beyond measure.

* * *

It was all of those things, and more, that Danny thought about as he sat across from his best friend's widow that warm late May afternoon. Watching as she sipped a tall glass of ice tea and browsed the menu that lay on the table in front of her. Her infant son wide awake and staring up at the small stuffed animals that dangled from the bar on the baby carrier. A baby rabbit, skunk and deer. Characters from Bambi. Each one did a different thing. Thumper rabbit clutched a small shatterproof mirror in its paws. Flower the skunk played music when you yanked on his tail. And Bambi had a bell inside of him that jingled if you shook him. Every so often a tiny hand or a tiny foot would come up and bat at the toys and a gurgle or cooing noise would emit from the stroller.

Underneath the table, Montana the puggle puppy was attached to one of the chair legs by her leash. Taking a nap while a take out bowl of water provided by wait staff sat next to her.

In all intents and purposes. Danny Messer and Samantha Flack looked like a happy family. A couple out for the day enjoying the beautiful weather and spending time together with their baby.

Only they knew the truth that lingered behind the smiles they gave wait staff or the pleasant thank you's they offered up or the small chit chat they took part in when someone stopped by their table to tell them how adorable their baby was. Their baby. There was something so heartbreaking yet so welcome about those words. Because it meant that while they were consumed by grief and anger, they at least appeared relatively normal. As if things in their lives were perfect and couldn't get any better.

Danny also found, although it was somewhat embarrassing to admit it to himself, that he actually liked people thinking that he was DJ's father. He didn't particularly like them coming right out and saying it to his and Sam's faces, but he didn't mean that people thought it. Because being a father had always been one of the things he'd wanted more then anything in the world. Someone that he could love wholly and completely and would love him back. Someone to take care of and be responsible for. To carry on his name. To watch grow and teach things too. He had accepted, when Lindsay first died, that he probably would never have children of his own. At that time he'd refused to believe that there was anyone else in the world that he'd consider a family with. That he'd want to share his life with. But when he had stepped out of the lab that morning, on the first anniversary of his fiancee's and best friend's death, Danny had taken a deep breath of fresh air and had looked up at the sun and the bright blue sky and realized that he was ready.

He was ready to live again. He was ready to have a life outside of Lindsay. He knew that she wouldn't want him to be alone forever. She wouldn't want him to lonely and sad. Holding out on giving someone all the love he had inside of him because he was afraid of upsetting her or because he felt slightly guilty for being with another woman. He wasn't cheating on her like he had convinced himself six months ago after he'd spent one night with a random woman. He wasn't cheating because Lindsay didn't exist, in the physical sense, anymore. She would always be in his heart and in his mind and he'd never love another woman the way he had loved her. But he would love someone else in a completely different and perfect way for himself and whoever he chose to be with. He would love again. And that was okay. He would love and he would be happy and he wouldn't be lonely.

And Lindsay would want that for him. She'd want him to go on.

She'd want him to live.

And for the first time in a year, as he headed for home that morning after his life altering revelation, Danny had been filled with the utmost feeling of peace. And happiness.

And as he sat there at the patio table, sipping a tall glass of Coke and a foot on the basket of the stroller, pushing and back and forth to keep his Godson pacified, he watched the woman across from him and realized he noticed different things about her. Not so much different in the respect he'd never paid attention them before. But different as to how he'd thought of them before. How he thought about her. She was pretty. Not drop dead gorgeous in anyway, but stunningly pretty.

He'd always found her attractive. Since the day they first met. But he was a red blooded male and any red blooded male would find her, and umpteen other women appealing. He noticed how smooth her complexion was. She wore no makeup save for light pink, sparkly lip gloss, and he could see the freckles that were splattered across the bridge of her nose. He noticed the thin scar that started in the middle of her forehead and travelled down to her left eyebrow. A souvenir from a perp that got out of hand during an arrested and slammed her head off a dumpster in an alleyway in Chinatown.

She'd been knocked out cold and he and Angell had attended to her after successfully arresting the culprit. She'd suffered a concussion and had been opened up for twenty five stitches and spent two days in the hospital. He could still see that that look of worry and affection in Flack's eyes as he showed up at the ER after hearing the call go out over the police ban radio. He'd showed up he said, to express his concern over a fellow officer and close colleague. Danny had been the only one at that time who was aware of the feelings that the big homicide detective from Queens had had for that tiny CSI from Brooklyn. He'd been after Flack for months to get his head out of his ass and make a move. Flack had been worried that someone like her, who held a masters degree, wouldn't want anything to do with some dumb ass flat foot with a grade twelve. Of course, his worries had been groundless and he had soon embarked on the greatest adventure and found the greatest love of his life.

Danny also noticed her hair. It had been put into a thick ponytail and then twisted into a makeshift bun held together by bobby pins. Loose pieces had escaped and had tumbled down the sides of her face and the nape of her neck and were being softly blown about by the gentle breeze. A pair of Paris Hilton-esque sunglasses had been pushed up onto the top of her head. Her arms were smooth and slender. They, and the rest of her body, were surprisingly toned for a woman that had given birth just months before. Her body spray was light and flowery and drifted on the breeze. She looked like the quintessential girl next door. No one, save for Danny, was aware of the various tattoos that decorated her body. The large, hip to hip lotus flowers that spread across the small of her back. The sea horse that adorned her left shoulder. Her husband's badge number, initials and date of his death on the back of her neck. A lady bug on the top of her right foot. She had two white gold hoops through the cartilage in the top of her right ear and three holes in each lobe taken up by diamond studs. A surgical steel 'bar-bell' through her tongue. She was Old Navy mixed up with Marilyn Manson.

"You look nice," he commented, breaking the silence between them, as he eyed her cap sleeved blue, red and white chequered sundress. Feeling like a complete tool for not saying something a little more poetic or complimentary.

She looked up from scanning the menu, a slightly startled expression on her face. Danny had never commented on her appearance in the years that she had known him.

"I mean, you look really pretty," he blurted out. "I like that dress. It's a nice dress."

_You moron, Messer_, he thought.

Danny had no idea what prompted him to notice things about her in an affectionate way. He'd never seen her as anything more then a friend. And now he was seeing her as a woman. An attractive, alluring and intriguing woman. And one that was very much unavailable. Physically and emotionally. She was in no way ready to move on and be with another man. She wasn't at the stage in her life to accept the death of her husband. And Danny knew feeling anything other then friendship was wrong. Totally wrong and unacceptable. Especially when her deceased husband had been his best friend. And her deceased best friend had been Danny's fiancee.

_Get a grip, _he ordered himself, and took a sip of his Coke in order to give his brain time to try and unravel itself. He was conflicted and confused. Nothing in his life had ever knotted his mind or his stomach so much. And he didn't understand how the one thing that felt so wrong, was the only thing, in an entire year, that felt so right.

How he felt about her.

"It's just I've never seen you in a dress before," Danny spoke again, allowing his mouth to overrule his brain. "Well, I mean I have. I did see you in a dress when you and Flack got married. And you looked beautiful and I almost couldn't believe it 'cause I was so used to seeing ya how you looked at work and I was like wow, she cleans up really, really good. But this is entirely different 'cause you're in a dress and you're here with me and Flack's not…" he took a deep breath and briefly closed his eyes. "You know what? I'll shut up now."

"You've been hanging around Adam way too much," Sam teased. "But thank you. It's nice to get compliments."

Danny smiled.

"It's one of my favourite casual dresses," she said, smoothing the sides down. "D…he used to tease me all the time because every time I went out clothes shopping, I came home with all these bags from Abercrombie and Fitch. So he used to go around the house singing that LFO song, Summer Girls," she cleared her throat and took a sip of iced tea before breaking into song. "I like girls that wear Abercrombie and Fitch…"

"I'd take her if I had one wish," Danny continued. "I'd take her if I had one wish. But she's been gone since that summer, that summer."

Sam laughed. A genuine laugh that made her eyes sparkle and her face light up. And brought a smile to Danny's face. "I can't believe you of all people would know that song. You don't seem the like type to listen to boy bands."

"I'm a closet boy band lover," he admitted, his confession only making her laugh even more. "What?" he asked with a chuckle. "You don't believe me? I have a huge stack of CDs from boy bands. 98 degrees, 'Nsync, the Backdoor Boys."

"The Backdoor Boys?" she howled. "Oh my God. That is not what they're called. They're the Backstreet Boys."

"Backstreet, Backdoor," Danny shrugged. "Looking at those guys they seem better suited to be the Backdoor Boys."

"You're mean," Sam declared and tossed her balled up straw wrapper at him. "And I knew you couldn't possibly be serious about liking boy bands. There was something creepy and disturbing about the thought of you being into that kind of thing."

"What's creepy and disturbing is that Flack was into that kind of thing," Danny declared. "What did you used to do? Tie him or handcuff him to the bed and force him to listen to your Ipod?"

"He humours me," Sam said with a smile. Then her face darkened and her eyes lost their sparkle. "Or at least he used to. He used to humour me."

"It's okay, Brooklyn," Danny assured her, as he leaned forward in his chair and laid his hand over hers. Her skin was soft and warm to the touch. It had been a long time since he'd touched a woman even in that innocent of an intimate way. And it felt neither awkward or frightening. It felt…good. "It's okay to talk like he's still here."

She shook her head and looked away from him, but her fingers twitched under his before she draped her baby finger lightly over his.

"It's not okay," she said quietly. "Because he's not here and he's never going to be. And I want to be able to remember all the great times instead of dwelling on the bad. And I want to stop thinking about the last two minutes of his life and concentrate on the nearly three years of his life we spent together. And most of all I want to be able to say his name when I talk about him."

"And you will," Danny promised. "When you're ready, you will."

She nodded and sniffled noisily. "I'm sorry," she said, her eyes meeting his once again. "You've brought me out to make sure I have fun today and all I can talk about is sad things."

"Hey, don't ever apologize for talking about Flack. That's not something you need to say you're sorry for. He was your husband. He was my best friend. And talking about him, even if you do cry at the time, shouldn't make you feel sorry about anything. You want to cry? Go ahead and cry. You want to remember some good times and laugh? Then you laugh? You want to rant and rave at the world and God for fucking you over so badly, then you go right ahead and get pissed off and yell and scream. Don't you ever feel like you've got to be sorry about any of that. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed with a soft smile, and as if suddenly realizing that her baby finger was softly stroking his over and over again, she quickly halted and slid her hand out from under his.

"And it's also okay to feel things for someone else," Danny bravely told her.

She stared at him. "What do you mean?" she asked, almost defensively.

"I mean it's okay if you're interested in someone. Another guy. It's been a year and you're human. And it's nice to hear compliments from someone and know that they're interested in you. And it's alright for you to feel something for them, too."

"I don't know what…"

"Are you ready to order now?" their waitress -a bubbly college student with flaming red, curly hair and vibrant green eyes and a name tag that read Lila- asked as she suddenly appeared at the side of the table.

"Are you ready?" Danny asked Sam.

She swallowed noisily. Unsure if he meant with the suddenly terrifying path in her life or with the actual ordering of food. Because while she knew he was right, that it was normal and it was okay to be attracted to someone else, to want companionship and intimacy and to want to feel love and love in return, it also terrified her. It was daunting to think that the man she had called a friend for so long, who'd been like a brother to her husband and had been her best friend's fiance, was the one and only person she could ever see giving all of that, and herself, to.

Because she could trust Danny. And she did trust him. With her life and the life of her infant son. And she knew that he would never do anything to hurt her. Because he was a sure thing. Someone who could make her feel safe and protected. And worthy of being loved.

"Do you know what you want to order?" Danny asked patiently.

Sam nodded and looked down at her menu as she cleared her throat. "I'll have the Asian chicken salad, please," she said, and snapping the menu closed, handed it to the young woman.

"And I'll take the double cheeseburger, gravy on the fries," Danny ordered, handing his own menu over. "Please and thank you."

"No problem," the waitress chirped, as she arranged the menus neatly in her hands. "By the way," she said, as she leaned over the stroller and smiled at the baby nestled in his carrier. "Your little boy is just so cute! How old is he?"

"Almost four months," Sam replied, beaming brightly at her son as she tucked his Winnie the Pooh receiving blanket around his legs "He doesn't like to sit still," she said with a laugh, as DJ wriggled his feet out of the covering, showing off his red and blue striped socks.

"He's just precious," the younger woman told her. "And he's got the most beautiful blue eyes. It's easy to see who he gets his blue eyes from," she smiled at Danny as she said the last part. Danny cleared his throat noisily and sipped at his Coke.

"Where does he get the black hair from?" the waitress asked.

"His father," Danny answered quickly. Sounding more harsh then he'd intended too.

She blinked. Then looked between the two diners, a sheepish, embarrassed smile on her face. "I'm sorry, I just assumed that…"

"It's okay," Sam assured her. "We get it all the time. People just naturally think that he's the baby's father. He's actually his god father."

"I'm sorry," the waitress looked at Danny. "I never…"

He waved it off. "Thank you for taking our orders," he said dismissively.

She nodded and turned on her heel and quickly left.

Sam sighed heavily and reached up to push a loose tendril behind her ear. "I'm sorry, Danny. I know it must be really awkward for you. People always think that your DJ's father. You must get pissed off hearing it so much."

"Why would I get pissed off?" he asked, pulling the stroller towards him with his foot. "Nothing too be pissed off about," he said, grabbing a hold of the Flower stuffed animal and yanking its tail down. "He's an amazingly beautiful baby. Does wonders for my ego that people think someone like me can possess the DNA it took to make something as incredible as him."

Sam smiled. "Thank you," she said.

He returned the smile. "For what?"

"You always know when do say the right things. When I'm feeling sad or insecure or paranoid. You just seem to know what to say to turn it all around."

"Well it's what I'm here for," Danny told her. "To cheer you up. Make you feel good about yourself. Make you realize that life is worth living and that you don't have to spend the rest of your life miserable and alone. That Flack wouldn't want you doing that to yourself."

"He wouldn't," Sam agreed with a sigh. "But it's hard. Convincing myself that it's okay to move on."

"What's hard about it?" Danny asked. "Is he hungry again?" he nodded down at the baby. "'Cause he's confusing my finger with a bottle."

"It's just the sucking reflux," Sam explained. "When he's tired he likes his passi."

"His what?" Danny asked.

"Soother. Pacifier," she replied. "There's one in the left side pocket of his diaper bag."

"I'm on it," Danny said and zipped open the side pocket on the blue and white gingham baby bag. He rummaged through it before finally coming up with the object of his desire. Frowning when he saw the design on the soother that he held between his thumb and forefinger. "The Toronto Maple Leafs?" he asked, staring at Sam, his eyebrows arched. "Are you kidding me?"

"The drugstore only had original six soothers," Sam explained. "And they were all out of Rangers ones."

"And you couldn't buy one of the other three American teams?" he asked. "You couldn't get Detroit or Chicago or Boston? You had to buy a Canadian team?"

"I like the Maple Leafs better then those teams." Sam reasoned.

"You're insane," Danny declared and popped the soother into his godson's mouth. "So what is so hard about moving on?" he asked.

She frowned. "I was hoping you would forget about that," she said.

"I may not have slept in thirty…" he checked his watch. "Make that forty some hours, but I'm still on the ball, Brooklyn. We've had a lot of heart to hearts in the past year. Let's have one now. Tell me what you're thinking about. Be honest with me."

She sighed heavily and stirred the ice cubes in her drink with her straw. "It's hard moving on because I feel so guilty about doing it."

"What do you feel guilty about?"

"I don't know. I just feel…this is going to sound so stupid…I'm going to sound so stupid. Because he's been dead for a year and I shouldn't be thinking this way or feeling this way."

"There's nothing stupid about grieving," Danny told her. "You feel whatever way you want. Just I'm here to listen. You know that. Tell me what you feel so guilty about."

"I feel guilty that I feel things for someone else," she admitted. "I feel guilty for being interested in someone and I feel that if I let things happen, that I'm cheating on my husband. And that's a stupid way to think because I know that he doesn't exist anymore. I know he's unreachable. That he's never coming back. That he's…" her voice broke and her lower lip wobbled as tears filled her eyes. "That Don is dead. That he's dead and he's never coming back."

Danny nodded slowly in understanding.

"But at the same time, I feel like I'm betraying him by feeling things for any one other then him.," she continued, wiping away her tears. Feeling as if a ten ton weight had been lifted from her shoulders by speaking her dead husband's name for the first time in a year. "I feel like he's going to be mad at me and hate me for being with someone else. Does that make any sense? Do you ever feel that way about Lindsay?"

"Yes, it does make sense. You're allowed to feel whatever way you feel. What you and Flack had? No one could ever replace that or copy that. But no, I don't ever feel that way about Lindsay because I know she'd want me to be happy. That she wouldn't want me to me depressed and alone for the rest of my life. And I think in your heart, you know that about Flack, too."

"I do," she sniffled. "I do. It's just…it's so hard, Danny. It's so hard. I miss him so much. Every second of every day. I miss him and I love him. And no one could ever take his place. And that's not fair to any other man. To have to compete with that."

"If someone loved you enough, they'd accept that," he told her. "They'd know that while they can't ever replace Flack and that you'll always love him, you love them in a completely different way. Am I making sense?"

She nodded and grabbed her napkin and dabbed at her eyes with it.

"Don't rob yourself, or DJ of having someone that loves the two of you. You both deserve that. He's going to need a dad, Samantha. Someone that can teach him guy things. That he can bond with."

"But he has a dad," she said. "I want him to know Donnie as his father."

"And he will. You teach him about his real dad. About the man that helped give him life. Who unfortunately never got to see the life that he made. You tell him who is real dad was but at the same time give him a dad that is real in a tangible way. See what I mean?"

"I think so," she said and sipped her drink. "It's just hard."

"I know," Danny told her. "Trust me. Of all people who can honestly say they know how you feel, it's me."

"If there's one good thing about this good awful shitty mess it's that we went through it together," Samantha concluded. "Neither of us had to go through this alone."

"And maybe the other good thing is that we can and we will get past this. Together."

She smiled at him through her tears. "Together," she repeated.

He nodded. Wondering if her together meant the same thing as his.

* * *

After lunch, while the baby slept in his stroller, they walked slowly through Central Park with the puppy scampering along beside them. They talked about the last year of their lives and how far they seemed to have come. To Sam it seemed as if she was making baby steps, and she wondered if that was enough progress in a year. Danny assured her that it was. That she would heal and move on at her own pace. That no one should expect other wise. Or tell her that he process of grieving wasn't the right one. They bought frozen treats from an old fashioned ice cream truck in Strawberry Fields and found a spot on the grass where they could sit and bask in the sun.

"I'm going back to work in a month," Sam suddenly announced, as she fought, in vain, to break apart her cherry flavoured popsicle.

Danny arched his eyebrows in surprise. "You are?" he asked, snatching the popsicle from her and easily and effortlessly snapping it in two before peeling the wrapper off and stealing half. "We'll share," he told her with a wink, and breaking his own chocolate popsicle in two, unwrapped it and handed her half of it.

She gave a little smile and popped the end of the chocolate frozen treat in her mouth. "There's a spot open at the lab day care in a month," she explained, answering his question. "So I called Mac and told him I was ready to come back."

"He must have been happy," Danny commented, stretching his legs out and leaning back on one hand.

"More shocked then anything. I guess he didn't think I was ever coming back."

"Honestly, I didn't think you were ever coming back," he admitted, giving the puppy a lick of his popsicle before Montana settled down between them.

"It's just time," she said. "I need to get some routine back in my life. I need to get out and see people. I'm tired of locking myself in the house and shutting everyone out. I deserve better then that. DJ deserves better then that."

"Do you think you're ready?" Danny asked gently.

"I don't know," she admitted with a sigh. "It's going to be hard. Because I'll see Donnie and Lindsay everywhere I go. Linds and I shared an office. It's going to be tough being in there all by myself."

"You won't be," Danny told her. "In there by yourself. Mac's hired a new CSI."

Sam arched an eyebrow.

"Guy's from Vegas," Danny told her. "Guess he was in the mood for a change of scenery. His name's Nick. Nick Stokes or something like that."

"A guy huh? Stella and I are going to be seriously outnumbered by all that testosterone."

Danny grinned. "So you start back in a month?"

She nodded. "After I see a department shrink. Mac wants to make sure that I'm emotionally stable. That I'm not going to wig out at a crime scene."

"He's gotta protect the lab," Danny reasoned. "But he also doesn't want to see you get yourself into something that you can't handle. If you want, I can see if he'll let me switch offices. Maybe he'll be okay with the idea of you and I working together and being roomies."

Sam smiled. "I'd like that," she said. "But let's just see how I cope first. Okay?"

"Okay," he responded, and took a bite out of his popsicle. "So my mom was asking about you and the baby," he told her. "And she was hoping that you'd bring little Flack around for her to see. And I've got this family reunion thing coming up and I really don't feel like going to it, but I was thinking, if someone I really liked was around to make my misery seem a little better, I wouldn't be so against the thought of being around all the Messers. You think you'd feel up to going to something like that?"

"When is it?" she asked.

"Two Sunday's from now. It's at my folks' place. I can understand if you don't want to go. It's a lot of people. And Louie's being sprung loose from the home for the weekend and it doesn't bother me if you can't deal with him."

She frowned. "Why wouldn't I be able to deal with Louie?" she asked.

Danny shrugged. "I guess I figured 'cause of the way he is…"

"Your brother has an acquired brain injury," Sam said. "He isn't any way."

"You know what he's like, Brooklyn. He's like a twelve year old. He can barely talk properly most days. And he walks funny and goes into this violent rages of his."

"It's not Louie's fault that Sonny Sassone beat him within an inch of his life," Sam said. "It isn't his fault that he's the way he is. He's your brother Danny."

"I know. And I love him. Regardless of what's wrong with him. I just didn't know if you'd be comfortable being around him."

"I'll be fine," Sam told him. "Stuff like that doesn't bother me."

Danny smiled. "Is that a yes then?" he asked. "You'll come? You and DJ?"

She nodded.

"Good," he said. "My family will be a bit more bearable with you around."

"A bit?" she asked with a laugh. "Thanks Danny. You really know how to make a girl feel good."

"You know what I mean, Brooklyn," he said. "Don't make things difficult for me."

"Me make things difficult?" she asked. "Never."

He snorted.

"Be nice to me," she said, slapping his shoulder and stretching her legs out.

They lapsed into a long comfortable silence. Eating their popsicles, each lost in their own thoughts. About the last year of their lives. About each other what was being left unspoken between them. The truth of the matter was, both had been skirting around the issue of them for a while. Yet he knew she wasn't ready to think about something like that, let alone discuss it. And he was determined to be patient.

"Did you get a hair cut?" Sam asked suddenly, taking in his dirty blond hair. How it was closed to buzzed along the sides and the back and short and spiky on the top.

"Yesterday," Danny replied. "Went out and got it down on my lunch break. You like?"

"I think it looks nice. I like this too," she reached out and ran a finger over his neatly trimmed goatee. "It suits you."

He just smiled.

She looked him over from head to toe. Taking in the baggy dark grey jeans and the thin, long sleeve white shirt he wore unbuttoned and un-tucked over a wife beater. Breathing in his intoxicating, masculine scent.

"You look really, really good Danny," she said.

He felt himself flush slightly. It had been a long time since a woman so openly complimented him. "Are you flirting with me, Brooklyn?" he asked.

"I'm just a red blooded female making an observation and being honest about what she's seeing," Sam told him.

"You got my hopes up there," he chuckled. "I was hoping you were flirting."

She gave a smile. "I have to be honest about something though," she said.

"What's that?"

"I miss your glasses. I really liked your glasses."

"Yeah?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Hmmm…I guess I'll just have to see what I can do about that," he said, sitting up.

"Don't do anything on account of me," she told him. "I just thought they really suited you. They made you look smart."

He laughed at that. "As opposed to looking stupid without them?" he inquired teasingly.

"That is not what I meant," Sam laughed as well. "I just meant that you looked really good in glasses. I mean, you look really good now, but I liked you better with glasses. And I've never been into a guy with glasses before."

Danny grinned. "Keep talking like that and I'll take you to my place and we can tear the apartment upside down looking for those glasses."

"Among other things," she boldly commented. She was enjoying the innocent flirting. And enjoying the fact that a man was into her. That he found her smart and funny and attractive.

"Now that's flirting," he told her, giving a wink before reaching out and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. His fingertips lightly grazing against her temple.

Sam blushed furiously as a tingle passed through her body and looked away quickly. It felt so right yet so terribly wrong at the same time. It felt nice to have someone touching her so tenderly again. To be looking at her the way he was looking at her. The way that her husband used to touch and look at her.

"I've got to go to the washroom," she suddenly announced and scrambled to her feet. "I'll be right back."

"Samantha, don't run away. I'm not going to hurt you, okay? Don't be scared."

"I'm not scared," she lied. "I just…I have to go to the bathroom."

She snatched her purse from underneath the stroller and hurried off towards the public bathrooms fifty yards behind them. She didn't have the courage to look back. Because she knew if she did, she turn right around and go back to him and do something completely unacceptable.

She hurried into the empty washroom and tossed her bag down on the shelf above the sinks. Tears blurring her vision as she turned on the cold water and leaned over the sink. Cupping water in her hands, she splashed it into her face several times before placing her hands on the sink ledge and closing her eyes. Fighting back the sobs that threatened to erupt.

_Please don't let this happen, Donnie, _she pleaded silently. _Please don't let me feel these things for him. Please say it's just because I'm lonely and I miss you so much. That I'd feel this way for any man that showed interest. Please give me some sort of sign that it's not because it's Danny. _

She sniffled noisily and let the tears spill down her cheeks as she raised her head and looked at herself in the mirror. Thirty-five years old and already a widow. A mother of a child that would never know his father. She was angry and bitter about the way things had ended. About how the one person who understood her and loved her unconditionally was so suddenly and violently taken away.

_But there's someone else who understands you, _a voice inside her head reminded her. _Someone that accepts you and everything that comes with you. And it's not fair to you, or him, to shut him out. It's not right for you to deny what you're feeling. There's nothing wrong with being happy. With moving on. You're still alive_.

_You're still here._

She wiped at her eyes and turned the water off and stared at her reflection. At the dark circles under her eyes. At how tired and worn she looked. Emotionally and physically.

_I just want to be happy again, _she thought. _I don't want to be lonely anymore. I want someone to love me. I want to love someone again. I'm just scared to do it. And I'm scared of who it is_.

* * *

Two hours later, Danny Messer pulled the black SUV into the driveway of that modest home in Queens. Neither he or Sam talked about what had gone down or what had been said between them. Yet both had felt something inside the other, and between them, change. It was small, but it was a tiny start on the road to moving on. He had noticed, as he pushed the stroller as they walked back to the SUV after their time at the park, that she had walked close enough to him so that their arms brushed against each other with each step they took. And he'd taken the bold step of releasing one hand from the stroller and reaching out to take her hand and entwine his fingers with his. A surge of relief, and hope, travelling through him when she didn't pull away. He wasn't sure what kind of sign it was. Or if things would ever develop further, but he was sure they were both on the path to recovery.

"Want me to leave the stroller in or take it out?" Danny asked, as he and Sam climbed out of the SUV and he opened the back door to grab the infant seat.

"We can leave it for now," she replied, scooping Montana out from her resting place on the seat next to the baby. She felt optimistic and light hearted for the first time in a long time. Yet still wary and determined to guard her heart very carefully.

Danny removed the carrier from its base. "We're home buddy," he said to the baby as he brought him out of the vehicle and shut the door. "You have a good day? You were a really good boy for your mommy and uncle D."

Sam waited until Danny came around the side of the car and they headed up the driveway together. His free hand resting on the small of her back as they journeyed up the walk and climbed the stairs to the porch. Sudden movement in the left corner startled Sam. She jumped slightly, and felt Danny reached around and grab a hold of her wrist and pull her behind him.

"Can we help you?" Danny asked, eyeing the man before him. Middle aged with close cropped black hair and a powerful build. Wearing a well tailored black suit, white dress shirt and red and black striped tie.

"Samantha Flack?" the man inquired.

"Who wants to know?" Danny asked.

The stranger opened his suit jacket to reveal a glistening gold badge clipped to the waist of his pants. "Special Agent Tom Gravelle. FBI."

Danny's eyes widened. _What the fuck now? _He thought.

"Mrs Flack?" Gravelle asked as she tentatively stepped into his line of vision.

She nodded meekly.

"Mrs Flack, we need to talk. I have something to give you."

He stuck his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out an item wrapped in a crisp white handkerchief. Opening it up, he held his hand out for both Danny and Sam to see the item in his possession.

Sam gave small gasp and laid one hand over her mouth as the other grabbed Danny's free forearm tightly. Her fingernails digging into his skin as tears threatened.

The FBI agent smiled gently.

"I think this belonged to your husband," he said.

* * *

**WE'RE SLOWLY GETTING THERE. TO WHERE THIS WAS LEFT OFF THE FIRST TIME AROUND. PLEASE R AND R FOLKS! UNLESS YOU DID SO THE FIRST TIME AROUND LOL. EVEN THEN, FEEL FREE. **


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK, BABY DJ AND MONTANA THE PUGGLE.**

**SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 AHEAD. THOSE WHO CAN PICK IT OUT WIN A CYBER COOKIE!**

* * *

**On the threshold**

"I'm looking for a warm safe place  
To feel your hand on my face  
Let the past roll off of my back  
Baby let's not talk about that|  
I just wanna make it through the night  
Lock the door and hide away  
I'm looking for a warm safe place  
I'm too young to pack it in  
I'm too damn old to weather this wind  
The rain it just won't stop it seems  
And I'm too stubborn to quit these dreams  
With you  
I can finally find some peace with you  
Won't you lay down next to me."  
-Warm, Safe Place, Aaron Pritchett

* * *

Mrs Flack.." Gravelle pressed in a soft and sympathetic voice, his grey eyes betraying a compassion and humanity that wasn't normally associated for the often cold demeanour associated with government agents.

The man looked sincerely uncomfortable with the mission he'd been sent to do. As if knew that the object he cradled in his big hand was not only the one thing that could bring about the closure that the young woman in front of him had so desperately been desiring for a year, but would also open up wounds that were still very much raw and painful.

"Where did you…" Sam could barely get the words out as she stared at the item held out to her in utter disbelief. "It's been a year…how did you…where…I don't understand how…"

"Does this belong to your husband, Mrs Flack?" Gravelle asked.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she nodded. Her hand was trembling as she tentatively reached for the NYPD badge that was being presented to her. It had been a year since she had seen it last. Since she had watched her husband the morning of his death, standing at the kitchen table clipping it to the waist of his jeans. She had wondered aloud why he hadn't just put it in his luggage along with his service weapon. He had been cleared, via a letter sent to the Department of Homeland Security by the police commissioner, to carry his gun in his carry on. The reasoning, on behalf both DHS and the NYPD was that if anything happened while on board the flight, whether it be an incident of air rage or a attempted hijacking, he could assist the Air Marshall in restoring order.

"Maybe I just want to flash the badge to impress the ladies at the security check in," he'd responded, looking over his shoulder at her as she stood leaning against the sink, drinking a cup of tea. Then he'd given her a playful wink and one of his famous grins. "That way I don't have to take off my shoes or wait at the back of the line. They'll see some hot cop and just let me jump ahead."

"You are such a man," she had complained with a roll of her eyes.

Then, as he turned his back on her to go back to leaning over the table to read that morning's Times spread out in front of him, she'd looked him over from head to toe and given a grin as she thought how he was her man and no one else's. And how proud she was to be able to call him her husband. And to call herself his wife.

That memory flooded through her a year later as she stood on her front porch, accepting the badge from the man before her. Her fingertips glided over the cold metal, tracing over every indent, every letter and number, every chip and scratch and crack. The colouring had been stripped away in many places. From both years of service and the initial crash and the elements. Small pieces and the clip at the back had been snapped off. It wasn't in perfect condition, but to her, nothing could have ever been so beautiful. Or so agonizing.

It was the only thing that she had been given to symbolize her loss. For months following the crash, she had hoped and prayed for something. That workers clearing away debris and finding things that had been scattered for miles in the surrounding woods, would find a piece of him, no matter how big or small, that would be successfully matched to the DNA sample that she had sent in. She had wanted that finality. Someone to call her and tell her that they had found something that could once and for all, confirm that her husband was dead.

She had a death certificate, but no body to go along with it. Nothing to prove to her that he had actually boarded the plane that day. Feeding the irrational side of her brain with false hopes that maybe, just maybe, he had never been on that flight. That he'd simply just left her. And that he would one day return to her. Because accepting he'd just upped and left was a hell of a lot easier then accepting he was gone forever. There was hope in a disappearance. Hope that he'd miss his old life and come home. With death, everything they had hoped for and prayed for and planned for was gone.

And now the confirmation had arrived. In that piece of metal in her hand. And as she fought bravely to keep her composure, she ran a finger over the four numbers at the bottom. 8571. She swallowed noisily and managed a small smile as she looked up at the man towering over her.

"Thank you," she managed. "I wanted something to…I needed something…of his…I needed this. You have no idea what this means to me."

Beside her, Danny cleared his throat noisily. Tears of his own threatening. "Where did you get that?" he asked the FBI agent. "It's been a year."

"We were alerted to someone advertising the planned sale of items recovered from in and around the crash site on Ebay," Gravelle explained. "Because of the nature of the incident and the fact that while they were recovered, the area was still considered for all intents and purposes a crime scene while NTSB investigated, the person who stole the items violated a number of laws, not to mention several ethical codes.

"And this just happened now?" inquired Danny. "A year later?"

"We've been conducting an investigation for several months now," the agent admitted. "Our first matter of business was to confiscate the items and attempt to find the original person who stole them from the site. There were hundreds of personal effects and pieces of the plane ready to hit the auction block. The person putting them in Ebay was just the middle man. We needed the head guy. And because of the way the agency works…"

"Notoriously slow," Danny said with a snort.

"…we weren't able to begin reuniting families with their loved ones items until this past month and a half," Gravelle continued, ignoring the offhand comment. "We were able to confirm, through a letter to DHS, that Mrs Flack's husband was one of two members of the NYPD on board the flight. The police commissioner confirmed who the badge number was assigned to, and gave us a name and an address."

"And the FBI sent an agent over to hand deliver it?" Danny looked, and sounded, sceptical. In the past year, he had learned a lot about who he could and couldn't trust. He'd learned who his true friends were and who were solely concerned with themselves. Add all of that together with a distrust for any government department, and it was a volatile recipe. "Isn't that normally something they'd send a department public relations person to do?"

"Normally," Gravelle responded. "But I have a personal interest in this."

Danny's eyes narrowed. "What kind of personal interest?" he asked warily.

"When I saw the name Donald Flack Jr come up as the owner of the badge, I offered to bring the item here myself."

"Because…" Danny pressed.

"Because I grew up with Donnie Flack. We lived three doors away from each other from the time we were in diapers until he joined the academy and I went away to college. All us guys that hung out together used to call him Junior. Started in grade school when he was the shit disturber leaving rubber dog crap and plastic vomit on the teacher's chair. Thinking he could see through girls clothes with these stupid x-ray glasses. He used to save up his allowance and mow lawns and shovel sidewalks in the winter to buy al this stupid crap advertised in comic books. This joker named Laughing Larry."

"Right there before my innocent young eyes, disappointment in a cardboard box," Sam said, her voice shy of a whisper as she stared wistfully down at the badge in her hands. Vividly recalling a warm and sunny day on a sidewalk in midtown Manhattan, listening to Flack and Lindsay talking about their childhoods being ruined by Laughing Larry and his promises of hovercrafts and nuclear submarines. She could remember every word that her future husband had spoken as if it was just yesterday. Although it seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Sammie?" Danny asked, his eyes full of concern as he rubbed the small of her back softly.

"I was just remembering something," she replied with a small smile. "Something that Donnie said once.

When we were investigating Essex Palmer's death. The guy who had his face blown off with an exploding cigar. Things led us to Laughing Larry and he met Lindsay and I are there and we…" she sighed. "It was just something he said. He and Lindsay were talking about reading comic books as kids and that there were these advertisements in them to buy all these amazing things. Hearing Agent Gravelle mention the plastic vomit and rubber dog crap and the x-ray glasses…it just brought it all back to me."

"I'm sorry, Mrs Flack," Gravelle was sincere in his apology. "I never…"

"It's okay," she assured him, giving a small laugh. "I remember telling them I bought Sea-monkeys as a kid. And the looks that they gave me. It was clear they thought I was the lamest person on earth. Donnie never let me live that down. Ever. You know what he decided to buy me that Christmas? What one of his gifts to me were?"

Danny and Gravelle both shook their heads.

"An empty fish bowl and a three packages of Sea-monkeys," she giggled at the memory. "I nearly killed him. He thought he was just so damn clever. Deep down, I was actually touched by that. I know that sounds stupid. But it meant something to me because he'd remembered something so trivial. I never told him how much I actually appreciated him doing that."

"I'm sure he knew," Danny told. "He didn't need to be told."

"He didn't need to be," Sam said. "But he should have been."

"I wanted to make sure that that badge got to you save and sound," Gravelle told her. "Like I said, when I saw the name come up, I knew it had to be the same Donnie Flack Jr. And I always regretted never keeping in touch with him when I left town to go to school. I was going one way and he was going another. I wished I had have kept in touch. He was one of my best friends. Was he still as sarcastic and stubborn as when I knew him?"

"And then some," Danny said.

"I'm glad that he made good. From what I've heard, he was an amazing cop. Youngest to ever be named detective. Lots of huge busts under his belt. But if he was the same Donnie I knew before I left, I can tell you that it wasn't his arrest records and high profile busts he was the proudest of. It was that he managed to find a nice girl and settle down. Make a comfortable life for himself."

Sam smiled. "I like to think that's what he loved best about his life," she said.

"Don't second guess it," Gravelle told her. "That's for sure what he loved best about it. This is Donnie's?" he nodded down at the carrier in Danny's hand. "A boy?"

Sam nodded. "DJ," she said, smiling proudly. "Donald Joseph Flack the third. But everyone calls him DJ."

"You were pregnant at the time of the crash?" Gravelle asked curiously.

"Two and a half months," she replied sadly. "We had taken a home test a week and a half before but had it confirmed two days before…" she sighed heavily. "…two days before Donnie died."

"Well at least he knew," the FBI agent said. "If you can find any solace in anything, at least Donnie died knowing that he'd created something amazing. That you and that baby were the last things on his mind. That he left this world knowing he was leaving something great behind. A legacy."

"He was looking forward to being a father," Sam mused. "We had just found out and he had all these big plans. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He was going to teach them to skate and how to play hockey. He was determined to teach them how to throw a football and play basketball and whatever other sport crossed his mind. He…we…had a lot of plans."

"Good thing is that you're still to be able to go through with them," Gravelle told her.

Sam smiled. Touched by the man's sincerity and the truth in his statement. She had always held firm to belief that she should have died along with her husband. That she never should have let Lindsay take her place. That she should have just sucked it up and gone on the trip regardless of how sick she felt. She had always thought she would have been better off to be with her husband even in death. Because her loss was so great and her grief so severe, that she didn't believe she could ever survive without him. And now her baby was here and she realized she had survived because of him. Because he needed her./ppBut nowhere as badly as she needed him.

DJ stirred in the carrier. Squirming under his receiving blanket and whimpering slightly. His nose scrunching up before he gave a small smile and opened his beautiful blue eyes.

"Hi handsome boy," Sam greeted him cheerfully. "Are you hungry? I bet your hungry after your long nap. Look what mommy has…" she held the badge close enough for her son to focus on. "That belonged to your daddy. A nice man brought it back to us. Mommy's going to put it away somewhere safe so you can have it when you're older to remember your daddy by."

The baby smiled broadly at his mother's face and voice and kicked his legs energetically.

"I need to get him inside," Sam said, setting the badge in the carrier along side her son's left leg before taking the seat from Danny. "He's going to be getting hungry and he's very impatient when it comes to wanting to eat. Thank you, Agent Gravelle. For bringing something of my husband back to me. I've waited so long and I…" she took a deep breath and released it slowly, tears forming in her eyes as she offered the man her hand. "You have no idea what this means to me. And how much it will help me."

"I hope it makes things a little easier to bear," he told her as he shook her hand. "And I'm very sorry for your loss, Mrs Flack."

She gave a small smile. "Thank you," she said.

"I'll be in in a minute," Danny told her, as he pulled open the screen door and used his own key to unlock the heavy wooden one. "You gonna be alright?" he asked, as he pushed the door open and held it wide open for her to step into the house.

"I'm going to be fine," she assured him with a gentle smile, then disappeared inside.

* * *

Danny closed the wooden door but left the screen one open as he turned towards the man in front him.

"Good acting, Messer," the FBI agent said with a smirk. "You even had me convinced that you didn't know who I was."

"What the hell are you really doing here, Gravelle?" he asked, grabbing a hold of the man by him forearm and forcibly pulling him down the stairs.

"I was bringing Flack's grieving wife something that belonged to him."

"Anyone could have done that. Why you? Why did you have to come here? You of all people?"

"Like I said earlier. I volunteered."

"Why?" Danny pressed. "And don't fucking bullshit me either. Anyone could have brought Flack's badge back. What made you decide to play Good Samaritan?"

"I wanted to come by and make sure that things were okay," the other man said. "I just wanted to make sure that things were all calm and quiet on the home front after the news broke this morning. Flack was my friend, too. I know I haven't seen him since the bombing but I…"

"But you what? You didn't even come around after the crash. And you suddenly just show up out of the blue like this?"

"I was just concerned. I know some of the family members have been getting threats since the FBI got that tip last night."

"Samantha doesn't know anything about that," Danny told him, a firm hand on the Agent as he escorted him to the black sedan sitting at the curb two doors down. "She never read the newspaper and I managed to keep her distracted so she wouldn't see some of the headlines. I don't want her to know about that."

"You don't want her to know that someone is taking blame for that disaster that killed her husband and best friend and over two hundred other people?"

"She's been having a hard time coping, okay? She's been having a bitch of a time dealing with things on her own. I didn't want her to have that one her mind on the year anniversary. Tomorrow sometime, I'll sit her down and tell her. But not now. Not yet."

"You're going to risk her finding out on her own?" Gravelle asked, as they stopped by the driver side of his car and he fished his keys from his pocket. "You're going to take the chance that she's not going to turn on the radio or the television? That she's not going to surf the 'net and see it for herself? How do know she's not in the house right now listening to CNN?"

"I will handle things on my own, in my own way," Danny replied. "I will tell her when I think she's ready to hear it. You don't even know if that claim was credible. It's been a year and just now someone wackjob is saying he's responsible for putting a bomb on that plane? Eight months after the NTSB closed their investigation and said it was massive mechanical malfunction? This is complete and utter bullshit. This is some fucking moron screwing with all of our heads."

"You don't know that," Gravelle argued. "It came from what the agency believes to be a credible source."

"A credible source?" Danny couldn't help but laugh. "A credible source that is casting a dark cloud over the government by claiming that the NTSB falsified their documents and lied to every family member of every person that died on that plane. Give me a goddamn break. I'm not going to go in there, on the anniversary of her husband's death and tell her that the NTSB fucked up. I'm not going to do it. Now do me a favour and get the hell out of here."

"It's very noble of you that you want to protect her," Gravelle told him, popping open his door and slipping behind the wheel. "That you want to keep her safe and warm. Now does that extend past the day time? Is there a point when you stop doing it for Flack and start keeping her safe and warm for yourself?"

Danny smirked. "I'm not even going to justify that with an answer," he said and slammed the car door. He waited at the curb, his hands planted firmly on his hips, watching and waiting for the car to pull away and disappear down the street.

Sighing heavily and running a hand over his weary face, Danny turned and headed up the front lawn towards the house.

Wondering why when things started going so right, they had to take a such sharp turn and go so wrong.

* * *

At quarter to nine in the evening, Sam sat cross legged in the middle of her queen sized bed in a pair of navy blue sweat pants with NYPD written in large white letters down the left leg, and a simple white camisole. Her hair was still damp from a long and relaxing bubble bath she had taken earlier. A simple indulgence that included a small serving of white wine and the lights dimmed and lavender scented candles flickering. It had been a long time since she had been able to take some time just for herself. To shut the door and leave the noise and the worries of reality outside for even just a short period of time. And when Danny had offered, after the baby had been bathed and dressed in pyjamas and given his last feeding of the evening, to clean up the supper dishes and keep an eye on things, she had jumped at the chance of capturing some 'me time'.

She could hear, through her closed bedroom door, Danny moving around the house. They hadn't spoken about the visit about the FBI or the treasured memento that she had been presented with. He hadn't brought it up, she figured, because he was afraid talking about it and dwelling on it would send her into an emotional tailspin and cause her to draw back into her world of grief and despair once again. He couldn't have been more wrong, but she appreciated the sentiment. The badge that she now cradled gently in her hands, had been what she needed to fully accept the cards that she had been dealt. It was the ultimate proof that she had needed that the life she had treasured and loved was over. That the man she had loved more then she had ever thought it was possible to love someone, was gone forever. There was no more wishful thinking and what if scenarios. Death was confirmed through that scratched and whipped piece of metal. She felt neither sorrow or anger.

She felt relief. Relief that she could being both accepting, and properly coping with, the incredible loss that she had suffered. That badge signified closure. The end of one path and the start of another. A path that both brought about hope, but frightened her at the same time. She knew she had to move past her grief. She had to break out of it and start living again. For her sake and the sake of her infant son. Who deserved a mother that was devoted to him. Who would give him a good life instead of shutting him away from the rest of the world out of fear of something bad happening to him.

It was time. She knew that. And as bad as it hurt and as much as she knew there was times of overwhelming grief down the road ahead, she knew that only she could take those first steps towards rebuilding her life.

A soft knock came to the bedroom door and she glanced towards it. "You can come in," she said, brushing a stray tear off of her cheek.

The door clicked open softly and Danny stuck his head into the room. "You all right?" he asked.

She nodded and gave him a bright, reassuring smile. "I'm good," she replied. "DJ's asleep?"

"Out like a light. Fell asleep in that funny seat you keep in the kitchen."

"It's an infant Papa-San chair," Sam told him. "It's his favourite thing in the world at the moment."

"I can tell. He looked so comfortable in it, I was ready to climb in there along with him. You sure it's okay? Me staying here the night?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" she asked. "You've stayed the night here before. What's so different about this night?"

Danny shrugged. "I just didn't know if you wanted to be alone or not," he said.

There was a lot that he wasn't saying. A lot they both weren't saying. In a way, neither of them were ready to speak the words, even though holding back on doing so was killing them both. It was a like walking on thin ice. You knew you had to get there to get where you wanted to quicker, but at the same time you were terrified to take those first steps in case everything crumbled underneath you.

"I don't want to be alone," she told him.

The truth was, she liked having him there. He had spent more nights at her home in the past year, then he had in his own apartment. Always crashing down the hall in the spare room. But it was nice to not be alone at night. To know that someone else was close by in case you needed something.

Or simply needed them.

And it was even nicer to have someone there when you woke up in the morning. Someone to sit across the breakfast table from. To sip coffee or tea with and engage in mindless chit chat. To read the different sections of the newspaper together and laugh with when something humorous arose. Having companionship that sometimes came with slight displays of affection had been necessary to keep her sanity.

And now having, and needing something so much more was starting to take a larger role in her life.

Danny gave a nod at her admission and offered up a smile. "All the dishes are done and I put the garbage and the recycling out. Anything else you can think of that you want done?"

She shook her head. While she had whipped up dinner, he had tended to hanging the shelf she had purchased in the baby's room, and then had taking the initiative to mow both the front and the back lawn. Both were disgustingly unkempt and she'd been slightly embarrassed by how they had looked. But she'd been so caught up with caring for her son and wallowing in her own self pity, that some things had simply slipped by the wayside.

She was also slightly embarrassed, as she watched Danny standing there in the doorway to the bedroom, that she had pretending to clean the glass on the backdoor so she could watch him as he worked diligently in the backyard. The flirting in the park and the way he had made her feel when he'd brushed the hair away from her face had caused her to become more aware of what was right in front of her instead of pining away for something that she'd never lay eyes on again. While Flack was real in her heart and her memories, Danny was real and right in front of her. He was attainable while her husband was far out of reach. She had watched him as any woman sizing up a prospective mate would. He had stripped off his shirt and wore just his jeans and wife beater and she had noticed the way his muscles moved and strained as he worked. She had noticed the sweat that glistened on his skin. He was an attractive and appealing man. And she was human.

She would have had to have been a complete and utter moron to not notice Danny. She had noticed him her first day on the job. His personality caused him to stand out among all of the other faces at the New York City Crime Lab. He had made her feel welcome and had never made her feel as if she had to prove herself to be considered a member of the tight knit team. She had, for the most part, been welcomed into the 'family' with open arms. And had been Danny who had led the charge. He was jovial and outgoing and loved to pick on her. He got a kick out of her Brooklyn accent and had been the one to come up with her nickname.

He liked how she stood up for herself and wasn't scared to tell someone, male or female, where to go and how to get there. He had told her, many a time, that she reminded him of Aiden Burn. A friend and colleague of his who'd been let go from the job a year and a half before Sam herself had started. She had heard the rumours and the story about her untimely death. She had always wondered if there'd been more to Danny and Aiden then he ever let on. But she'd never asked.

What she had found the most attractive about him from day one, aside from his obvious good looks and beautiful blue eyes and amazing body, had been that slightly damaged, lost little boy quality Danny had to him. He was fractured yet still functioning. He had skeletons in his closet and ghosts in his past, and there was times when you looked at him that you could tell he was struggling with containing them. There was something unbelievably intriguing about that wounded spirit he possessed. It made you want to attempt to heal him. To help him deal with whatever plagued him.

She had noticed, during their day out, that Danny seemed happier. He wasn't entirely over what had happened a year ago, but he was functioning exceptionally well. He laughed and smiled more and had gone back to his good natured teasing. The Danny that slipped away a year ago was slowly and surely coming back.

And she had missed that Danny.

"Are you okay?" Danny asked from the doorway, a frown on his face. Concerned by her sudden lapse into complete silence and the way she stared off into space.

Sam blinked and gave a small start as his voice cut into her reverie. "I'm fine," she replied. "Sorry. I was just thinking about something. And thank you. For everything you've done today. You didn't have to do all of that."

"I wanted to," he told her. "No big deal. I'm just going to go and take a shower. In case you came out and were looking for me or something."

"Maybe we can sit outside later," she said. "Have some tea and coffee. Sit out on the back deck. It's a beautiful night."

"Sure," he gave a smile. "Sounds like a plan. I'll see ya in a bit."

She nodded as he closed the door softly.

* * *

Giving a heavy, shaky sigh she turned back to the badge in her hands. She ran her thumbs over the raised lettering and numbering and then glanced over at the night stand. Where the half empty bottle of water, copy of War and Peace and her husband's wedding band sat.

_It's time_, she thought, and closing her fingers tightly around the item in her hand, scooted across the bed and swung her legs over the side. She padded across the room and opened the door to the walk in closet. Switching on the light, she turned to her left and went to the back wall. Her husband's scent still lingered on some of his clothes. And while she knew that one day, and most likely one day soon, she'd have to part with his things, his clothing still remained a comfort to her. She wasn't ready for that massive of a leap.

_Baby steps_, she told herself, and standing on her tip toes, took down a heavy wooden memory box that sat on the top shelf. Inside were mementos from her wedding and honeymoon along with other events that had occurred in the life she had shared with her husband.

She carried the box into the bedroom and sat it and the badge on the bed. Opening the lid, she went to the night stand and picking up the novel, closed it and grabbed the bottle of water and the simple white gold wedding band. The bottle of water she sat aside, and in the box she gently placed her husband's badge, his favourite book, and his ring. The latter she stared at for some time. Hesitating in closing the lid. Then she plucked it up and took it to her jewellery box on the dresser and deposited inside.

Returning to the bed, she snapped the lid shut on the memory box and returned it to it's place in the closet before turning off the light and shutting the door. The bottle of water she carried into the ensuite bathroom. Where she twisted off the lid and dumped the contents down the sink before tossing the bottle into the trash can under the sink.

That was enough for now. Because while getting rid of that bottle of water and putting away some of his things hadn't been as painful as she had imagined it would be, she knew that it would break her heart to go any further. That while she was proud of herself for the small things she had done, she knew not to be foolish and attempt anything more.

She stole a glance at herself in the mirror above her sink and smiled.

_You're going to be alright, _she assured herself. Then her eyes widened as a random thought hit her.

_Towels._

She wasn't sure if there were any towels in the main bathroom. Except for maybe the one she'd placed out on the grass a week after so she and the baby could sit in the sun for a little while.

Hurrying from the room, she went straight for the linen closet next to the nursery and tossed it open. Snatching up a face towel and a bath sheet, she shut the door with her hip and carried them to the bathroom, where the sounds of the shower running trickled out from under the closed door. Her plan was to rush in, lay the towels on the toilet lid where Danny would see them and then leave as quickly as she let herself in. She wasn't going to hang around and take a peek, no matter how badly the red blooded female side of her was nagging at her to do just that.

She reached for the door handle, then jumped back, startled, as the door suddenly opened. Bringing her face to face -or her face to his bare chest- with Danny Messer with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. She felt herself blush furiously from head to toe, especially when she saw the slow grin that spread across his face.

"Jesus!" she cried and laid her free hand over her eyes and her other hand shoved the towels at him "I'm sorry! I am so sorry!"

"Am I that awful to look at?" Danny asked, amused by her embarrassment.

"No…oh God no…you're nice to look at…more then nice, actually…it's just…I'm sorry…here's your towels…"

"I was just coming out to get some," he told her.

"Well here they are!" she exclaimed. "Take them, they're yours! All yours!"

"What are you so freaked out about?" he asked. "It's not like I'm naked."

"I know that! It's just…seeing you like that…it's been a year since I've seen a man like that…and having it just suddenly happen like that…"

"If you had have just put towels in there after you got rid of the other ones, this wouldn't have happened," Danny teased.

"Why are you just standing there?" she asked. "Just take the towels and go back and finish your shower!"

He grinned and took the items offered to him. "Would have been really embarrassing if I'd walked out naked, huh?"

"Yeah…although I'm sure you're a pretty nice picture bare assed…" she bit her bottom lip, appalled that she had even said something like that.

He couldn't help but laugh. "You know, you're pretty hot when your cheeks are bright red and you're completely mortified."

"Please!" she begged. "Just please go in there and finish your shower before I humiliate myself any more!"

"Well you're the one whose still standing here," Danny reminded her.

"And you're the one who could just turn around and go back into the bathroom," she retorted.

"You'd think being married to someone, you wouldn't be so shy about seeing a guy half naked."

"That is completely different!" she cried, removing her hand to glare at him. Fighting with herself to not look anywhere other then his face._ I am not going to look at his body, _she told herself. _I am not going to look at his muscular, strong arms and wonder about how they'd feel around me. I'm not going to look at his chest and his stomach and wonder what his muscles would feel like under my fingertips. I am not going to give into my hormones._

"How's it different?" Danny asked.

"Because he was Don! He was my husband! I knew what he looked like naked! So seeing him in a towel was no big deal. I mean, it was because he had an amazing body and I was completely attracted to him and seeing him even half naked just got my hormones raging. But that was Don and you're Danny and it's just different"

"And what are your hormones doing right now?" he asked playfully.

"Nothing!" she cried. "Well maybe not nothing! I am human, you know! They're doing some crazy things but I what they're exactly doing is none of your business."

"It's my business when I'm the one doing crazy things to them," Danny teased.

"We are not having this conversation," Sam declared. "We are not talking about the differences between you and Don half naked. We're not talking about who does what to my hormones. In fact," she said as she stepped away. I am walking away from you. I am going to turn around and go back to my room and I'm going to…"

Before another word could escape from her lips, she felt Danny's long fingers curl around her wrist and then felt herself being pulled towards him. Not having a chance to react before his mouth was covering hers in a long, slow and tender kiss. It was neither demanding or rushed. His own hand holding the towel secure around his waist while the other released her wrist and moved upwards to rest on the side of her face. She could taste a mixture of sweat and water on his soft, full lips. And while at first she didn't react, she didn't pull away either. It was exciting, and intimidating, to experience that kind of intimacy again. To feel a man's rough, strong hands against her skin and to be overcome by their scent. To lose herself in the sensations that a simple kiss could stir up inside of her.

Danny broke away. Embarrassed and furious with himself for busting a move, while wearing nothing but a towel, on his best friend's wife in the hallway of their home.

_Dead best friend, _he reminded himself. _Dead best friend. You're not doing anything wrong. It's okay to feel this way about her. To need her. To want her. She's a beautiful and alluring woman. But unavailable. Emotionally anyway. And you're being a fucking ass for even thinking about taking advantage of her at a time like this._

_It's been a year. A whole three hundred and sixty five days, Messer. Some people move on way quicker then that. Why are you second guessing something that feels so goddamn good? Why are you holding back when you know that this is what you need. That she's who you need. _

He ran this thumb lightly over Sam's lips. Her eyes were closed, her breathing raged. He swallowed noisily as he brushed his knuckles along her cheek. Silence descended on the hallway. "I'm sorry," he said after several minutes. "I never should have…"

"Why did you stop?" she asked, her eyes flickering open.

"I didn't think you wanted me to be doing it," he admitted. "You didn't react or anything so I thought…"

All words were cut off as he found himself caught completely off guard by her arms quickly circling his neck and pulling his head down towards her. He stumbled slightly and found himself pushed backwards against the wall as she stood on her tiptoes and leaned into him and captured his mouth with hers. The kiss was much more eager and passionate, and hungry, then the first. Her tongue aggressively seeking entrance to his mouth. Pushing past his lips and against his teeth. He obliged, opening his mouth and hearing her sigh as their tongues glided softly against each other, then met and mated frantically. He felt her fingernails digging into the back of her head, she felt his hand on her hip, shivering as it slid slowly up her side, lightly grazing the side of her breast before continuing its ascent and finally stopping on the back of her neck.

She broke away when air became a necessity. They stood, their foreheads resting against each other, in the hallway, their hearts beating wildly and a million and one thoughts and feelings and emotions swirling through their brains and bodies. The realization of what lay ahead of them on the road of moving on was both daunting and exciting. And the thoughts of what could happen between them and what they wanted to happen to them were both overwhelming and terrifying.

"Baby steps," Sam whispered. "Baby steps…"

Danny pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. "What's going to happen with us?" she asked, sounding more then slightly terrified.

"Whatever we want to happen," he replied.

"Is it wrong of me that I don't know what I want?" she inquired. "That my brain is just running in all sorts of different directions and I just don't know what I'm doing or what I'm saying? Is that wrong?"

He shook his head.

"You don't regret it do you?" she asked, scared to hear his answer.

"It's hard to regret something that I wanted so badly to happen," he told her.

She smiled. There were tears in her eyes. Her body was trembling. Danny knew she was scared of what was happening. Of the things she was feeling. And of the things she now knew he was feeling.

"I wanted it to happen too," she said. "I just…I have to…I need…" she laid a hand over her hammering heart. "I need some time to myself for a few minutes."

He nodded in agreement. "I'm going to go and finish my shower," he said, and turned and stepped into the bathroom. "Only this time, I'm turning the hot water off and the cold water on. So if you'll excuse me..."

She couldn't help but laugh at that.

He gave her a playful wink before shutting the door.

Sam sighed heavily and briefly closed her eyes. Gathering and composing herself. Getting her emotions in check before opening her eyes once again and heading on shaky legs for her bedroom.

_Please tell me this is the right thing to do, _she prayed silently, as she slipped into the room and her eyes fell on the picture of herself and her husband sitting on the table on her side of the bed. _Please tell me that this is okay. That you're not going to be angry with me. Or with him. Just some little sign, Donnie. Because I'll always love you and miss you. Always._

Nothing but silence answered her.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and put her face in her hands. Praying for something, anything, that would let her know it was going to be okay.

That she was going to be okay.

And that she wasn't about to embark on the biggest and most painful mistake of her life.

* * *

**THANKS TO EVERYONE, NEW READERS AND RETURNINING ONES, WHO ARE REVIEWING AND ADDING ME TO FAVS AND ALERTS! YOUR SUPPORT IS MUCH APPRECIATED!**


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY DJ.****!**

**THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO IS READING, REVIEWING, ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS, AND PATIENTLY WAITING FOR ME GET GET MY ASS PAST CHAPTER 13. **

* * *

**W.I.P.**

"Well you dawned on me and you bet I felt it  
I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted  
I fell right through the cracks, and now I'm trying to get back  
Before the cool done run out,  
I'll be giving it my bestest  
And nothing's going to stop me but divine intervention  
I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some  
But I won't hesitate no more, no more  
It cannot wait, I'm yours  
Well open up your mind and see like me  
Open up your plans and damn you're free  
Look into your heart and you'll find love love love love."  
-I'm Yours, Jason Mraz

* * *

Danny woke to brilliant sunshine bathing his face in warmth and a gentle breeze that trickled in through the open bedroom window and tickled his bare skin. Birds cheerfully serenaded him from their perches in the bushes and trees in the backyard. It was a peaceful, relaxing start to another beautiful late May day. And the silence and serenity of early morning gave him the chance to reflect on the changes that had taken place in his life, and in his heart, in the last twenty four hours.

After the intense and passionate moment he and Samantha shared in the hallway, he'd returned to his shower wanting more from her. So much more. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman. Eight months to be exact. He'd gone out for a few beers with Adam, Hawkes, Flack's partner Tony Scagnetti -Danny still referred to him as Detective Prada after he'd walked into the lab years ago with Evelyn Danner's pink handbag- and Stella's firefighter boyfriend, Brendon Walsh. A few beers had turned into well over a dozen and he'd ended up taking home some random woman who'd been flirting with him all night. Hilary. He could remember her name and that she'd told him she was a NYU student but everything else was a complete blank. He didn't remember -aside from the fact she had long blond hair- what she even looked like or how she'd smelt or even what she had felt like. He couldn't even remember if the sex had been any good or not. All he could recall was that he had woken up with a massive hangover and Hilary long gone.

And all the money and credit cards missing from his wallet.

It had been a lesson learned and he had vowed to never be that stupid again. To never let him impenetrable grief override his common sense. To just simply accept that he was alone, and lonely. And that when he was ready, truly ready to go on, things would come smoothly and easily.

And they had. When his weary and tormented mind had finally decided to let him know that enough was enough and it was time to get his head out of his ass and get on with his life, the realization of who it was he wanted both physically and emotionally, had nearly blindsided him. He'd never expected that the woman he'd crave a future with would not only be his deceased best friend's wife, but the woman who, while Danny had always found stunningly attractive, had been somewhat of a little sister to him.

As he sat across from her at lunch the day before, he had noticed every inch of her beauty and every facial expression and had truly heard the magic inside of that musical giggle she possessed. And it had made him realize that he had had those feelings for her for months. That he'd been wanting to kiss her and touch her and hold her for a lot longer then he cared to admit.

Their moment in the hallway had proved to him that he no longer felt guilty for seeing her in a romantic light. He no longer considered his attraction to her, or his feelings for her, a betrayal to Flack and Lindsay. Because neither of them felt or through anymore. They had ceased to exist a year ago. On a worldly level at least. All that was left of them were the memories. Both good and bad. Moments that Danny and Sam would forever hold in their hearts and minds.

It was okay to be attracted to her, he had concluded. On all levels. And it was more than okay to admit, even if it was just to himself for now, that he was falling in love with her. It was a different kind of love then what he'd had for Lindsay, yet neither was greater or less or more complete then the other. It was just different. There were no words to describe why or how. He just knew what he felt. And that what he felt was right.

Yet at the same time, he was nervous. Worried and anxious about pushing her too far, too fast. He didn't want to scare her away or have her feeling obligated to do or say anything she didn't feel yet. Pressuring her would only cause her to pull away. To withdraw from him. And that was the last thing he wanted. So Danny was determined to let thing flow at her pace. To let her take control and lead the way. When she was ready to take the next step - he wasn't even entirely sure what that next step exactly was- she'd find a way to let him know.

After his shower -a cold one just as he'd joked about with her- he'd pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and they'd sat out on the top step of the back deck. He'd sipped a cup of black coffee while she'd nursed a decaf tea. They'd laughed and talked about fun and humorous time they'd experienced while working together. Both had shied away from talking about Flack or Lindsay and the lives they had shared with them. They both were aware of a sense of renewal that had taken place between them. Two people overwhelmed by their feelings for each other, and worried that talk of grief and sadness would somehow destroy what they had discovered together.

Danny had noticed the smell of her hair and skin. The scent of lavender was soft and feminine and completely intoxicating. He had also noticed the way the moonlight had danced across her face and made her eyes sparkle. And while they didn't talk about their moment, as he referred to it as, and nothing had materialized between them as they sat outside, she had, after he'd noticed her shivering, allowed him to put his arm around her and draw her close.

Shortly before midnight they'd called it an evening. There'd been a long, slow and lingering kiss in the kitchen. He had held her delicate face in his hands while her own hands had gripped his forearms tightly. The kiss itself had been neither hurried or demanding. But in the end it had left them breathless. Their hearts pounding in unison and their heads swimming.

Afterwards, they'd headed upstairs He knew, then and now, that there was no way Sam was ready to take things that far. She wasn't emotionally ready to be sexually intimate with anyone. And he both respected and accepted that. Frankly, Danny knew he wouldn't be able to be with her in the same bed she'd shared with her husband. That when things did happen, they would have to go down in entirely different place. Put of respect to Flack alone. So it had been a brief, chaste goodnight outside of her bedroom and brief lingering glances down the hall as they stood in their respective doorways.

He hadn't been aware of the exact time, but Danny had been immersed in a peaceful state of pre-slumber when he'd heard the door to the spare room click open and the quietly shut again. He hadn't moved or spoke. He'd kept his back to her as he felt her lift the covers and slide into bed alongside of him. She hadn't spoken or even touch him. Her hair had softly brushed against his back and he'd heard the rustle of sheets as she laid down. He had waited several minutes before opening his eyes and glancing over his shoulder at her. Finding her lying on her side with her back towards him. And without saying a word, he'd reached out and taken her hand and entwined her fingers with hers. In return, Sam had given a soft, content sigh and had held onto his hand tightly. Letting him know, even without words, that she needed someone. And not just any someone. But him.

Within minutes they had both fallen asleep.

* * *

It had proven to be one of the best sleeps of Danny Messer's life. It had been a year since he'd slept soundly. Three hundred and sixty five nights where he had done nothing but toss and turn and have his brain haunted by dreams and questions of what if's and what could have been's. And while the sleep itself hadn't been long in terms of hours considering how long he'd actually been awake and on the go for, he felt surprisingly refreshed.

And optimistic about where the day, and his life, would take him.

Danny yawned noisily and rubbed sleep out of his eyes as he stared up at the cove ceiling above him. He looked over at the at the serene, angelic figure sleeping alongside of him. Sam was on her left side, facing him, with her arms curled around her pillow and the tips of her toes lightly touching his left calf. There was a delicate smile on her lips. He took in every inch of her features. How impossibly long her dark eyelashes were as they fell on her pale cheeks. The dainty curve of her lips and chin and the delicate slope of her nose. Her freckles more pronounced in the sunlight. He found them adorable and charming even though she'd been cursing the things since the day they met.

He thought of the time, long ago, when he'd asked why she covered them up with makeup. She had told them that she despised them. Flack however, had preferred her fresh faced and without makeup. Or any kind. And he had called her freckles Angel Kisses. The term had seemed strange coming from a man so big and strong and surly. But it had been something his grandmother back in Ireland had always called them. While Flack's grandfather had been black Irish and had passed down appearance down to all males after him, his wife had been blessed with shocking red hair and a face and body full of freckles. Flack had always talked fondly about his grandmother. A mouse of woman who seemed so delicate and proper but who could curse and swear and hold her liquor against any man. He had gone back to the old country twice with his parents when he was growing up, and his grandparents had visited New York City several times. And for their honeymoon, Sam and him had gone to Ireland. They'd spend three weeks there. Two in a luxury hotel in Dublin, and then the last week with his aunt and uncle in County Tirone.

Both his grandparents were long gone, but he'd been able to visit with family members he hadn't seen in years. And some he'd never even met before. Not to mention he'd been able to show off his beautiful new bride to all of them. For someone like Sam, who up until that point had never been outside of North America, it had been the trip of her dreams. She had admitted that she'd enjoyed the picturesque country sides to the more commercial aspects of Dublin. And she'd come away from her honeymoon with several digital camera memory cards fill of pictures and a lifetime of wonderful memories.

And while Flack had come back to New York City with a permanent grin on his face that gave away he was an extremely content and satisfied newlywed, he'd also returned with a precious gift from his cousins. The ability to say swear words and perverted things in Gaelic. And he'd often, while in front of family and friends, break out the Gaelic and say something to his wife. The only one who knew what he was saying. She'd stare at him, wide eyed in horror and embarrassment, turning a dozen shades of red. Then he'd chuckle and pull her close and press a kiss to the top of her head. And everyone around them would both wonder what the hell he'd said, and smile at how happy and in love Sam and Flack seemed.

That seemed like a lifetime ago now. So much had changed in their lives in such a short period of time that Danny often wondered if it was all just a dream. If one day he was going to wake up and find that they were all back in 2009 and the crash had never happened. That he'd open his eyes and Lindsay would still be in bed beside him. That he'd go to work and Flack would be there. Walking down the halls with that confident, almost arrogant stride he possessed. Offering up smart ass quips and that infamous dimply grin.

But it wasn't a dream. Danny knew that. The reality was that his life was exactly the way it was at that moment. The birds chirping outside, the breeze drifting into the room, the sunlight streaming over him. And that his life now included that amazing woman sleeping beside him. And he was nervous and excited about the future.

He rolled over onto his side and reached out to trail a fingertip down the bridge of Sam's nose. He pressed a tender kiss to the tip before gently brushing her bangs off of her smooth forehead and lightly tracing the length of the scar that marred her creamy skin.

Sam's lips twitched and her eyes flickered open. "Good morning," she greeted with a sleepy smile.

"Good morning," he said, giving a smile of his own.

"I hope you didn't mind me coming in here," she said. "But I tossed and turned for about an hour and I couldn't fall asleep knowing you were just down the hall and I just wanted to be with you so I.."

He silenced her with a small kiss. "I didn't mind," he assured you. "Did I kick you out of the bed and tell you to take a hike?"

She giggled. "No.."

"Did I not hold her hand? Make you feel all comfortable?"

She nodded.

"Then I obviously didn't mind," he ran his knuckles along her cheek and pushed her hair behind her right ear. "How did you sleep?" he asked, tracing the outline of her ear with a fingertip.

"Better then I've slept in a really long time," she admitted. "I felt…safe. I felt safe. And I haven't felt like that since Donnie died. I always felt so scared and so alone. Like I couldn't control anything. All I could think about were horrible, irrational things. Bad people coming and breaking in and doing something to me and taking.." tears sparkled in her eyes as she spoke of her greatest fear. "…and taking DJ away from me," she finished.

"No one is going to come here and take him away from you," Danny promised her. "You're a great mom. You take amazing care of him and you love him so much. No one is going to take him."

"Donnie's parents think I'm crazy," she said. "They think that he'd be better off with them."

Danny frowned. "They told you that?"

Sam shook her head. "They sent a social worker here," she admitted. "Three days ago. I wasn't going to tell you about it 'cause I knew you'd get upset. But I guess they called CPS because they think I'm a threat to DJ because of how depressed I've been. I'd never hurt him. Ever. I love him too much. He's all I have left of Donnie. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him."

"Of course you wouldn't. And they're fucking insane if they think you would. How often have they been around in the last year? And be honest with me. 'Cause I spend more time over here then at my own place and I've only seen Flack's parents maybe half a dozen times. How often to they actually come over here?"

"His dad never comes," she responded. "And his mom just comes once every two weeks to stock the fridge."

"And she stays for all of what? An hour?" Danny scoffed. "You know what? Fuck 'em. 'Cause they know nothing about you. They don't know what kind of mother you are 'cause they can't be bothered to come over here and really spend time with you or your grandson. Flack's mom is a whole load of crazy. She's still pissed that she got completely stiffed in his will. So she's looking for anything she can to upset you."

"I gave her money," Sam said. "I don't know what else she wants. I gave her what I could. I need to make sure I have enough money to take care of myself and DJ and all the bills. On a long term basis. I don't owe her anything."

"No. You don't. She's just a bitter old woman whose looking to get rich off her son's death. Ignore her. Just worry about yourself and DJ. Especially DJ. You're a great mommy, Sam. You know you are. I see you with him and it takes my breath away how incredible you are with him. She doesn't have a leg to stand on. She's just a miserable fucking bitch who gets off making everyone else miserable. So stand your ground and don't let her. Okay?"

She smiled and nodded. "Okay," she agreed. Reaching out, she laid a hand on the side of his face.

"I need to shave," Danny said.

"I like it," she declared. "All scruffy. It's sexy."

He grinned.

She blushed furiously as she realized what she had just said. "I'm sorry," she said sheepishly. "I never should have…"

Danny gave a dramatic pout. "Are you trying to say I don't look sexy?"

"No…" she answered quickly. "Yes…I mean no. I'm not trying to say that you're sexy…I mean…" she paused and took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Biting her bottom lip as she exhaled, Sam opened her eyes. "What I mean is yes. I think you're sexy. I just never should have said it out loud."

"Why?" he asked, sliding his hand down to cup her face, his fingertips caressing the side of her neck as his thumb softly stroking her cheek. "What's wrong with saying it out loud?"

"I just…I don't know…I haven't told a man things like that in a long time," she admitted. "And I guess it feels kind of weird to be doing it."

"You're doing a pretty good job of it," he chided. "You seem to be handling your own at the whole flirting thing."

"Whose flirting? I'm not flirting?"

Danny arched his eyebrows.

"I'm not!" she insisted. Then giggled. "Okay…so maybe I am. But just a bit. Nothing to outrageous."

"You ever do anything outrageous?" he asked, feigning shock. "Imagine that concept."

"Okay smart ass!" she laughed and slapped his chest. "There's no need to be so sarcastic so early in the morning. What time is it?"

Danny raised his head and glanced over at the clock radio on the night stand on her side of the bed. "Seven fifteen."

She groaned and closed her eyes. "The baby will be getting up soon."

"He get up at all during the night?"

Sam shook her head. "I went in to check on him around four. I woke up and nearly went into a panic when I saw what time it was. So I went into the nursery and there he was, fast asleep on his tummy with his ass sticking up in the air and his thumb shoved in his mouth. I'm so glad he's getting out of middle of the night feedings already."

"Well it's not like he needs them," Danny laughed. "Kid's gonna be huge whether he downs a bottle in the middle of the night or not."

"I know," she giggled. "Have you seen the size of his feet and his hands? Big like his father's. He's going to be just like Donnie."

She sounded neither sad or hurt as she spoke. There was a small smile on her face. She was slowly beginning to come to terms with her loss. And moving on with her life. Her grief and sorrow would never banish entirely. A part of her would always love Flack. There was no denying that. But she had come to terms with the fact that in order to preserve her sanity and properly take care of herself and their son, she had to let him go.

Danny stroked her cheek with his thumb. "You okay?" he asked, his voice quiet and concerned.

She nodded and opened her eyes. Golden brown focused intently on blue. "This feels so weird…" she said, in a soft, scared sounding voice. "Lying here like this…I've only ever lied like this with Donnie and Zack long before him. And it feels strange to be here like this with another man."

"Strange as in a bad strange or…"

She shook her head. "Strange as in different. Being here like this with you, I just…we've known each other for so long, Danny. We've always been friends. When I first started at the lab, you were the one that showed me around and introduced me to each other. You were the one that always invited me to join in with team outings and stuff like that. You were always so nice to me."

"You're easy to be nice to," he said with a smile.

"Even if I am a whiny little nymphomanatical bitch who does nothing but argue and sleep with everyone?"

Danny frowned. "That was one person. One person who obviously doesn't know you and hasn't bothered to take the time to get to know you. Whose cynical and jaded and can't face their own faults so they like to drag everyone else down with them. The people who really know you and love you? Those are the only peoples' opinions who should matter. For every hater there's twenty other people who adore you."

She gave a small smile.

"And honestly, you're thirty-five and how many guys have you slept with? Flack, Zack and what? Maybe one or two when you were in your late teens or in college?"

She held up two fingers. "That's it," she said.

"That doesn't even fill up one hand," Danny mused. "I mean seriously, I hardly consider a girl that's slept with four guys in her lifetime a slut. That's a drop in the bucket in most women's lives. So who gives a crap what one person says? Maybe they've only had sex once in their life and are pissed they can't get it more."

Sam laughed. "You are so mean." she scolded. "That's not very nice."

"Just making an observation. A nasty one, maybe. But nastiness can go two ways. I can play that game too. It's so easy for other people to judge and criticize, but they can't take it when someone gets up in their face. What's that old saying? If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all?"

Sam giggled. "That's from the movie Bambi. I think Thumper's mom said it to him."

"She did."

Sam arched an eyebrow.

"I'm a closet Disney fan," Danny told her. "There's lots you don't know about me. And probably even more I don't know about you."

"I don't know about that," she said, her hand coming up to rest on his pillow, her fingers combing through his spiky hair. "We've been friends for a while. I got to know you way before Donnie and I ever got together. I like to think you know a lot about me. And vice versa."

"I mean far beyond our favourite colours and movies and songs and actors and actresses. Or where we grew up or our parents and siblings names or where we went to college. I mean knowing real stuff about each other. Like what really makes us tick and stuff that we keep deep down inside. Things that not a lot of people know about us. So far we just know the basic friendship type stuff."

"And you want to know all the juicy stuff about me," she mused, hooking her finger around the chain he wore around his neck. "All my deep, dark, explicit secrets."

"Well I don't know about the secrets part," he chuckled. "But I have got nothing against, deep, dark and explicit. And through the word juicy in there and BOOM. That's a recipe for something hot right there."

She rolled her eyes and dropped his chain. "Only you could turn a completely an amazingly intense conversation into something dirty," she complained, backing away from him and turning to slip out of the bed. "I should go and check on DJ. See if he's…"

"Hey…hey…" Danny grabbed her gently by the forearm and pulled her towards him. "Get back here…you're not going anywhere…the baby's fine…"

"But he might be…"

"He might be nothing," he said, and flipping her onto her back, ran his hand down his arm and entwined his fingers with hers. "If he needs you or wants anything, he'll let you know," he assured her, propping himself on his elbow, his body looming over hers.

Sam tried not to panic. She tried to keep the anxiety bottled up deep inside of her. It had been a long time since a man had been that close to her in such an intimate way. And for nearly two and a half years, since early on in their relationship, it had been the same man every morning, noon and night. His electric blue eyes staring intently and desirably down at her. The warmth of his strong body. His touch and his smell. And now there was a different man. And she was overwhelmed by the way he looked at her. Because there was so much there in his eyes and his face. Feelings and emotions that she had once seen in her husband.

And it was frightening.

"What's a matter, Brooklyn?" Danny asked, as his thumb gently caressed the top of her hand and her wrist.

"Nothing," she lied, and attempted a brave smile. "Nothing's wrong…I'm fine."

"You're shaking," he observed, concern evident on his face and in his eyes.

"I'm just cold," she explained, hoping her words sounded more convincing to his ears then they did to her own. "It's the breeze. It's strong and chilly and I.."

Danny stared pointedly down at her.

"I'm nervous," she admitted. "Being here like this with you…I'm scared, Danny."

"What are you scared of? Tell me what you're scared of, Sammie. Are you scared of me?"

She nodded.

He frowned.

"Not scared of you in a physical way," she told him quickly. "Scared of feeling the things that I am feeling for you. Because we've been so close, like brother and sister for so long and now I'm feeling all these intense, amazing things for you and the only other person I ever felt this way for was Donnie. Not that it feels the same. 'Cause it doesn't. And it isn't as if one is better or greater then the other because they're both two completely different feelings…"

Danny bit his bottom lips, his eyes sparkling with amusement as she rambled away.

"Not that what I'm feeling for you is bad," she continued. "Because it is far from bad. It's on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. It's just weird 'cause you and I have always been close and nothing has ever happened between us and now…" she took a deep breath. "And now look where we are."

"Where are we?" he asked. "Do you even know?"

"Yeah…we're in the spare bedroom in my house in Flushing, Queens."

"Okay, smart ass. What I meant is do you know where we are emotionally."

"I just know how I feel," she said. "I know how I feel and what my heart wants. That's all I know."

"And what does you heart want?" he inquired.

"You," she replied confidently. "It wants you. But then my mind is telling me sometimes that this is wrong. Because you're Lindsay's fiance and my husband's best friend."

"Was," Danny corrected. "I was Lindsay's fiance and Flack's best friend. But guess what, Sammie? They're not here. They're not part of our lives anymore. And they're never going to be again. Not physically anyway. They're both gone. Forever. And they wouldn't want us to miserable and alone the rest of our lives."

"No," she agreed. "They wouldn't. But how would they feel about us being together? Doesn't it make you feel the slightest bit guilty? That we're having these feelings for each other?"

"A little," he admitted. "But I don't feel ashamed about it. I don't feel ashamed that I feel the way I do. I don't regret ever developing these feelings for you. It just happened. Why argue with your heart? It knows what and who it wants. And what it wants and who it wants are you and DJ in my life. And there's nothing wrong with that."

"But what would they say? What would Donnie…"

"He's gone, Samantha," Danny reminded her gently. "He's gone and so is Lindsay. And you need to accept that. They don't think or feel anymore. But I know that they're looking down at us, and I know that they're both probably glad that it's each other we found and not complete strangers. Because we went through the loss and the grief together. We know how it feels to go through something like that. And now we're both going on with our lives. Together. What can be so wrong about that? The two people that loved them and were loved by them the most, finding something incredible together?"

She sighed heavily and looked away from him. "I don't know how long it will take," she said, making eye contact with him once again. "I don't know how long it will take to be able to give myself to you the way you want me to."

"What do you think I want from you?" Danny asked.

"Other then the obvious?" she retorted.

"I'm not here because I want sex from you," he informed her. "Sure, I'm attracted to you. Extremely attracted to you. And I'm a guy and I'd be lying if I said it never crossed my mind to at least try or that I haven't thought about what it would be like to be with you in that way, but I'm not here, as part of your life, solely to get laid."

"I never said that…"

"I'm here because I genuinely care about you," he continued. "Because what I feel for you is the real deal. I'm not feeling these things 'cause I'm lonely and I want someone in my life. I'm feeling them 'cause they're the real thing. And that's why I'm here. Because I want to be. I want you and DJ in my life. As more then just the friend and my godson."

She smiled. "We want that too, Danny. Believe me. We do. It's just…I need to take this slow. I need to take me and you slowly. I need the time to get used to it. Because I'm worried about what people will think. Everyone at work. Adam, my parents. Don's parents. Your family and Lindsay's family and…"

"Fuck 'em," Danny said. "Just fuck 'em. Who cares what they think. We don't need to defend ourselves, or how we feel to anyone. And it's none of their goddamn business what we do."

"I know that but.."

He silenced her with a small, soft kiss. "All that matters is us. Me and you and DJ. Nothing else matters and it shouldn't matter. It's our lives. Not theirs."

"I know that but…" she tried again, only to have her words cut off with another kiss.

God he was a good kisser. His lips were smooth and soft and seemed to possess a magic all of their own. It had been so long since she'd felt that warm, tingling sensation that started at the tips of her toes and settled in her stomach before flooding the remaining length of her body. And she liked feeling that way. She liked having someone that made her feel desirable and beautiful.

Wanted.

She reached up with her free hand to rake her fingers through his hair. Her hand settling on the back of his neck as she took the initiative to deepen the kiss. It felt so good and so right that her body and heart responded eagerly and easily. She felt his grip on her hand tighten, and closed her eyes as his lips broke away from hers and trailed kisses across her cheek and down onto her neck. She slid her hand down his neck and along his shoulder, her fingertips drifting over the tattoo on his shoulder and down his arm before travelling upwards once again.

Danny released her hand and used gentle fingertips to push aside the strap of her camisole. He felt her shudder under his light touch and pressed feathery kisses along her shoulder. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, a fingertip grazing along the inside of her bicep.

"I feel beautiful," she breathed. "You make me feel beautiful…it's been a long time since I felt that way."

He didn't respond. Instead he moved his lips back to hers and kissed her. Harder and more passionate then before. Their mouths hungry and demanding. He ran his hand up her arm and down her side. Briefly brushing against the side of her breast before sneaking around to her waist. Hearing her sharp intake of breath and her body stiffen as his fingers came to rest on the drawstring of her sweats.

He'd gone too far. Way too far. And Danny cursed himself for that. Because he had made a promise to himself that he wouldn't push her. He wouldn't ask for too much, too soon. And he'd gone and done the complete opposite.

And felt like a complete and utter prick for it.

He drew back to look at her. He saw the slight fear in her eyes and the way she trembled.

"I can't…" she whispered, regret in her eyes. "I just can't…not yet…I'm sorry, Danny. I…"

He gave a reassuring smile and kissed her chastely and removed his hand from her stomach. "It's okay," he told her. "I understand. Your pace, Sam. Always at your face."

She smiled as well.

He sighed and rolled over onto his back and placed his forearm over his eyes.

She reached out and laid her hand on his chest.

"So what are we?" he asked curiously. "Are we seeing each other? Are we dating? Are we exclusive? Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? What?"

"Do we need a title?" she asked.

"Some kind of classification would be nice," he replied.

She sighed and lay in quiet contemplation for several minutes. "How about we say we're a W.I.P," she suggested.

"What's that mean?" he inquired.

"A work in progress."

"I like that," he mused. "'Cause progress means we're moving forward on something. And I really want us and to moving forward."

She smiled. "Me, too," she said.

* * *

Sunshine poured into the kitchen. The sliding door that led out onto the deck was wide open, allowing the refreshing breeze to tumble into the room. The radio mounted under the cupboard near the sink was tuned into the local country and western station and the volume was cranked. And as Keith Urban's voice filled the room talking about wanting for, and hoping to find, a better life, Danny stood at the stove, clad in a pair of baggy jeans and a wife beater, preparing waffles and fresh fruit for breakfast. Laughing over his shoulder as Samantha, in a pair of denim capris shorts and a white eyelet cap sleeved top that tied at the small of her back, danced around the kitchen in her bare feet. Her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back as she serenaded him and the infant sitting in his baby papa-san chair in the middle of the kitchen floor.

DJ, beaming brightly up at his mother, kicking his feet energetically and greatly amused by her antics, had long been fed and bathed and dressed. Danny and Sam had taken turns watching him so the other could get showered and into clothes. And now, feeling light hearted and optimistic about the future, they both found they could smile easily and laugh more. Two things that had been missing out of both of their lives.

"_Someday baby, you and I are gonna be the ones, good luck's gonna shine," _Sam, smiling down at her son, sang along to the music blasting from the radio. _"Someday baby, you and I are gonna be the ones, so hold on, we're headed for a better life."_

Danny grinned, watching her out of the corner of his eyes as she sidled up to him and snaked an arm around his waist. "You're insane, you know that?" he asked.

"Sometimes," she admitted, and plucked a raspberry from the open container beside him. "You'll get used to it."

"I don't know about that…" he said with a dramatic sigh.

"Do you really have a choice?" she asked. "I mean, if you didn't want to try and get used to it, you wouldn't be here, right?"

He smiled at that.

She laughed. "Another one bites the dust. Another unsuspecting man falls for the Ross charm."

"It's a horrible fate, but someone has to take one for the team." he teased her.

"Come and dance with me," she said, grabbing a hold of his hand. "Come and dance with me, Danny."

"Brooklyn, I don't dance. I told you this at your wedding. When you tried to get me to do a slow number with you."

"The best man is supposed to dance with the bride," she said. "And I managed to get you out there didn't I? If Don could suck it up and dance with me, you were more then capable."

"He was the groom. He had no choice."

"That was the story of his life with me," she laughed. "He didn't have a choice in anything. He simply just gave in. It was either that or a lifetime on the couch. I'd say he chose well."

Danny smiled and looked her up and down. "He definitely did. He lucked out big time. He was a very, very lucky man."

"He was," she agreed. "And I was lucky to have had him in my life. I mean, look at that amazing, beautiful gift he gave me."

Danny glanced over his shoulder at the baby bouncing excitedly in his seat. "Flack did good," he said.

Sam nodded, her own eyes on her son. "He's Donnie's legacy," she declared. "I have to believe that. Do you believe that?"

"I do," Danny responded. Then felt himself choke up. "DJ is…DJ's his boy."

Sam looked at him and smiled gently and rubbed his back. "Come and dance with me," she said, breaking the sadness in the room. "It's a nice slow song. Come and dance with me, Danny."

"I'm cooking here…"

"Five minutes. All it takes is five minutes."

He sighed heavily and wiped his hands on his thighs. "You're demanding, you know that?"

She nodded and pulled him into the middle of the kitchen and stood on her tiptoes to curl her arms around his neck.

"What song is this?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her slender body. "Whose singing this?"

"It's Kenny Chesney," Sam replied. "It's called You Save Me."

He smirked. "Seems kinda appropriate, don't you think? Considering everything we've gone through in the last year?"

"It seems perfect," she said, and laid her head on his chest.

He rested his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes as he listened closely to the words:

"_It's hard lovin' a man that's got a gypsy soul, I don't know how you do it, I'm not sure how you know, the perfect thing to say to save me from myself. You're the angel that believes in me like nobody else. And I thank God you do. 'Cause when I'm a bullet shot out of a gun, when I'm a firecracker coming undone, when I'm a fugitive ready to run, all wild-eyed and crazy. No matter where my reckless soul takes me. Baby you save me."_

As the music ended and the kitchen was filled with the broadcaster's rich, deep voice, Sam lifted her head from Danny's chest and smiled up at him. "You're not a bad dancer, Detective Messer," she teased. "You only stepped on my toes twice."

"Funny," he snorted. "Seein' as how you were standing on the top of my feet so you could reach my neck."

"Can I help it I'm tiny?" she giggled. "I used to dance with my step-father like that when I was growing up."

"Nice…comparing me to the Sarge."

"That is not what I meant and you know it. All I was trying to say was…"

He kissed her gently. "I know what you were trying to say. You may not look anything like Adam, but you two are definitely related with all that diarrhea of the mouth you two suffer from all the time."

"Diarrhea of the mouth!" she laughed and attempted to wriggle out of his grasp. "That's mean!"

"I am just teasing ya. Don't go getting all feisty Brooklyn girl on me now. Where'd the Sammie go that was just dancing all nice and romantic with me?"

"You ruined it!" she cried. "You ruined it by being all Danny Messer on me."

"Hey, I gotta get used to your insanity, you gotta get used to me being…well, being me."

"Do I get hazard pay?" she asked, sliding out of his embrace.

"Smart ass," he chuckled and yanked her back to him for a long kiss.

The sound of the screen door slamming shut and someone clearing their throat noisily caused them both to startle.

Sam wheeled around, feeling Danny's arms tighten around her waist as they came face to face with the wide, horrified eyes of her mother law.

* * *

**_THANKS TO ALL THE NEW READERS WHO ARE REVIEWING, AND TO SOCCER-BITCH WHOSE STILL REVIEWING EVEN THOUGH SHE READ THIS ALL THE FIRST TIME AROUND! PLEASE R AND R FOLKS._**


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK, BABY DJ AND MONTANA THE PUPPY.**

**A/N: THANKS TO EVERYONE ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS! AND FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT DURING THE RECENT CRISIS.**

* * *

**Defending the title**

"I won't talk I won't breathe  
I won't move till you finally see  
That you belong with me  
You might think I don't look  
But deep inside the corner of my mind  
I'm attached to you  
I'm weak  
It's true  
'Cuz I'm afraid to know the answer  
Do you want me too?  
'Cuz my heart keeps falling faster  
I've waited all my life  
To cross this line  
To the only thing that's true  
So I will not hide  
It's time to try  
Anything to be with you  
All my life I've waited  
This is true."  
-True, Ryan Cabrera

* * *

Trembling from head to toe from nervousness and fright, a cold sweat forming on the back of her neck and forehead, Sam swallowed noisily, unnerved at the icy glare that her mother in law fixed on her. Time seemed to stand still. No one moved and no one spoke. The only sounds in the room were the baby's soft gurgling, the raucous country tune now playing on the radio, and Samantha's harsh, ragged breathing. She was terrified of the verbal lashing that she knew she was in for at the hands of her mother in law. The one person in the world that was capable of instilling any sense of fear in her. Patricia Flack had hated her daughter in law from the moment her son had brought home his then girlfriend two years ago. She didn't like how outspoken the Brooklyn born girl was. Sam Ross had never been the type to back down from anyone, and when Patricia had started in on the twenty questions the second they'd sat down for dinner, it hadn't taken long for Sam to get her back up over what she considered inappropriate, personal questions. She didn't understand what her up bringing in Crown Height had to do with the kind of life she lived in her early thirties, and she didn't appreciate the insinuations that 'once in the ghetto, always in the ghetto'. And she'd been quick to defend herself and her parents. Even if her mother and birth father didn't exactly deserve it.

When it became apparent that everyone else in the Flack family actually liked Don Jr's new girlfriend -she was down to earth and funny and intelligent, three things he normally didn't seem to go for in the women he spent time with- Patricia stepped up her personal attacks. Going out of her way each time she was in the same room with Samantha Ross to make the young woman's life a living hell. Dry, sarcastic put downs she attempted to disguise as bad humour, cheap shots regarding her less then picture perfect up bringing, and comparisons to the many ex girlfriends that her son had. Samantha had simply turned the other cheek and took it. Not matter how deep the comments cut or how badly they stung, she had been determined to keep peace with her boyfriend's mother.

By that time, she was a constant presence around the house. She had developed a bond with Flack Senior. He was constantly calling his son up and asking him to bring her over for Sunday dinners and family events. Odd, considering father and son hadn't had a decent relationship in years. She had become, unknowingly, the bridge between the two of them. Someone that they could talk about over a beer while watching a hockey game or while sitting across from each other at the dinner table. With Samantha in his life, Flack had become closer to his father then he had been since he was a little boy.

He had also become happier. He laughed often and smiled more. The black, desolate cloud that had seemed to hang permanently over his head since the bombing slowly began to disintegrate. After a string of disastrous and meaningless relationships over the years, he had finally found that woman that he looked at lovingly and adoringly. Who he couldn't get enough of. Who could bring a smile to his face with little effort. And who loved him and adored him and respected him in return.

Patricia had, because of her own pettiness and jealously, become the black sheep in her family. Her relentless assaults on the young woman who would become her daughter in law turned even her own husband against her. He didn't understand how she could be so vicious to someone that made their son so happy. Who had gotten him to withdraw from the perpetual state of personal and emotional discord that he'd tumbled into since he'd been so gravely injured. The more her family turned against her, the nastier Patricia got. To the point where her son finally stepped in and told her, none to politely, to either get her shit or get out of his life.

She'd accepted the latter. She had turned a deaf ear to the announcement of an engagement and had to be physically dragged by her daughter and husband to her own son's wedding. The frosty relationships had just begun to unthaw two months before Flack's untimely and sudden death. And while Patricia had been the first family member to show up at the lab to offer comfort to her stunned daughter in law, she'd also been the first to turn on her. The promises of help throughout both the pregnancy and the first four months of her grandson's life falling by the way side the moment it became apparent that she wasn't going to be becoming rich from her son's tragic demise.

And now there she was, shooting daggers at her daughter in law and her son's best friend. Showing up, out of nowhere, at the most inopportune time.

"Patricia…" Sam stammered her way through her words. "We were just…we were…Danny and I…we were.."

"Making breakfast," Danny finished for her, nodding over his shoulder to the waffle maker plugged in on the counter next to the stove and the bowl of batter of dishes of various fresh fruit scattered on the island in the middle of the food preparation area.

"You two were obviously getting ready to make something," Patricia remarked dryly. "And I doubt it was breakfast. How are you, Daniel?" she asked coolly.

She'd been calling him by his full first name since the first day he'd met her more than a decade ago. After he and Flack had started up their friendship after finding themselves playing on the same team in the NYPD house league. At that time they'd both been uniform officers. The name Flack was well known. Don Junior was royalty as far as most of the guys were concerned. And unfortunately, the name Messer was infamous. Danny being the only law abiding individual in his family in years. Yet Flack hadn't cared that his new best friend came from a family of mobsters and crooks. He'd accepted Danny regardless of his family history, or his own personal shortcomings.

"Same old," Danny replied, tightening his hold on Sam as she attempted to wriggle free. "Too much work, not enough play."

"Certainly doesn't look that way to me," Patricia commented. "Looks like the two of you are finding plenty of play time."

Samantha felt herself flush from head to toe. As if she was sixteen years old all over again and getting caught by her mother making out on the living room couch with her first steady boyfriend after her parents arrived home unexpectedly. In reality, she was a thirty-five year old mother herself, who shouldn't have felt the need to defend herself, or the choices she was making with her life.

"When Don and I drove by last night we saw your SUV in the driveway," Patricia said to Danny. "I didn't expect to still see you here this morning."

"Danny stayed the night in the guest room," Sam quickly explained. "He took me and DJ out for the day and then did some things around the house for me. Neither of us felt like being alone last night so I asked him to stay. And now he's making us breakfast."

"It was the year anniversary yesterday," her mother in law reminded her. "And you felt it was appropriate to be out and about on the town and spending your night with another man in the house you shared with your husband? My son?"

"Danny just…"

"Sam needed some cheering up," Danny spoke up. "I wasn't going to just let her sit inside the house all day and wallow in her grief. So I came over and took her and the baby out. No big deal. Why you making such a thing out of me being here? Never bothered you before. You know I'm here all the time so what's the issue?"

"It's not the fact that you're here," the older woman informed him. "It's the fact that you're in the middle of the kitchen, my son's kitchen, getting cozy with his wife."

"And you just felt it was appropriate to walk into the house unannounced?" Danny asked. "Like it didn't occur to you to knock?"

"I didn't think I'd be interrupting anything," Patricia fought back. "I didn't expect the two of you to be going at it in my son's house!"

"This is Samantha's house too," Danny calmly pointed out. "And what she does in this house is her business. You can't show her the courtesy of knocking, don't bother coming over."

"I have every right to come over here," Patricia informed him. "When I'm worried about my grandson's well being…"

Danny laughed at that. "So worried about his well being that you only come around twice a month?" he asked. "That you don't think anything of upsetting his mother when you threaten to take him away from her? You think that that's worrying about his well being? Only thing you're worrying about is the next buck. And you know that if you get DJ, Sam would have to shell out the cash for his care. That's what you're worried about. How you can fuck her over."

Patricia blinked.

"Danny, it's okay," Sam rubbed his arm soothingly. "You don't need to…"

"No I do need to," he told her. "Where has she been, Sam? When you needed people the most? When you were practically crippled by grief? Going through that entire pregnancy without Flack? Without the father of your baby. He's her grandson. Where was she when he was born? All that she cares about is money. She threw a shit fit over the fact she got stiffed in Flack's will and she's still pissed about it. You think it's okay that she treats you and DJ like that? That she threatens to take him from you? That she calls you crazy? You think that's okay?"

"Of course I don't think it's okay," she said in a small voice. "But I don't want you getting upset like this. It's just not worth it."

"It is worth it. You're worth it. If you were the same Samantha you were before Flack died, you would have told her to take a hike. You wouldn't have just stood by and let her shit all over you like this! And Flack would have stuck up for you. He would have protected you from this crap. And he's not here now so it's up to me to do it. I promised him that if anything ever happened to him, I'd take care of you. And I'm not breaking that promise to him."

"How admirable of you," Patricia snorted. "When he asked you to make that promise, I doubt he meant taking care of her intimately as well."

Danny smirked and shook his head. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You think you can just walk in and start tossing out threats and accusations? This isn't your house."

"And it isn't yours either," Patricia told him.

"This is my house," Sam informed her mother in law. "And I want Danny here. I want him here all the time. Morning, noon and night. He watches out for DJ and I. He takes care of us and makes me feel safe and secure. And if I want him here, then it's none of your business. What I do with my life is none of your business anymore."

"What you do with my grandson in the house is my business. My son is that child's father! And out of respect to him…"

"Your son was my husband!" Sam shot back. "And I know how much it has always burned your ass that Donnie ended up with me, but he was my husband and DJ is our child together. He was my entire world and when that world ceased to exist you disappeared! Everything was great for a couple of weeks and then when the will was read the shit hit the proverbial fan. You showed your true colours. You think that you're some kind of martyr because you come over to make sure there's food in the fridge? You think I need to kiss your ass because of that? That's bullshit, And it's out of respect for your son that I don't kick your ass on out of my house!"

"I came here to check on my grandson!"

"You came here to spy on me!" Sam argued. "Because you probably drove by the house this morning and saw Danny's SUV still in the driveway. Or maybe you even drove by before you came over here and then decided to pop in to see what I was up to."

"And what are you up to?" Patricia challenged. "Or can I just assume that you…"

"It's really none of your business," Sam told her. "But assume all you want. Danny is my…" she paused, gathering the courage to say the words that settled on the tip of her tongue. "Danny is my boyfriend and if you can't accept that, then stay the hell away from me. If you can't deal with the fact that we're together, then get out of my life."

Both Danny and Patricia were startled by her admission. Patricia had always accepted the fact that the time would come when her daughter in law would move on with her life. She was far too attractive and bubbly and down to earth to not have at least a few admirers on her door step. It had always hurt to think that the woman her son had loved more then life itself, whom he'd adored and cherished and would have protected to the death, would simply just forget about him and get involved with someone else. That another man would raise her son's child. But what stung the most was coming face to face with the 'new' man in Samantha's life. That the person she'd picked was her dead husband's best friend. There seemed to be something so forbidden and somewhat disgusting about it. That the one guy that her son had loved like a brother, was now taking stepping into and taking over his life.

Danny was taken back solely because an hour and a half ago, as they lay in the sunshine cascading into the spare bedroom, when he had questioned what their official 'title' was, she'd called them a work in progress. So hearing the words "Danny's my boyfriend" knocked him for a loop. And brought a huge grin to his face.

DJ, safely secure in his infant seat, gave a small whimper. The noise cutting through the thick tension that had fallen over the room. Patricia's face and eyes softened slightly as she stepped away from the young couple and made to cross the room to tend to her grandson. Sam cut her off at the pass. Quickly slipping out of Danny's one armed embrace and hurrying over to the baby before his grandmother could get her hands on him. If all his grandma was good for was spewing hatred and threats, then it was someone that DJ didn't need in his young life.

"Come here, sweet pea," Sam spoke tenderly and quietly to her son as she snapped open the safety harness holding him in place and scooped him up into her arms. "You a bit hungry already?" she asked, placing him against her chest, one hand on her back, the other on the back of his head as he nestled his face into her neck. "You are always hungry," she declared, pressing a kiss to his temple and breathing in his soft scent.

"Kid's just like his father," Danny said with a smile. "He's going to be six feet tall and weigh two hundred pounds by the time he's fifteen."

"I'm just going to change him and feed him," Sam announced. "And then I'm going to let the puppy out of her crate before she goes stark, raving mad."

"I'll finish making breakfast," Danny told her, pressing a kiss to her temple as she paused at his side. "You must be starving."

She nodded. "I won't be that long. He's probably just looking for a snack."

"You be a good boy," Danny said to the baby, running a hand over DJ's fine, black hair. "No giving your mommy a hard time. I know first hand the eight months of hell you put her through."

"All day sickness, constant heartburn and insomnia, a forty-seven pound weight gain," Sam sighed dramatically as she carried the baby through the kitchen. "It really is amazing how some little pip squeak like you could cause so much drama in my life."

* * *

Danny grinned, watching as she headed through the door and then disappeared down the hallway. A scowl immediately took up residence on his face as his eyes narrowed and focused on the older woman standing in front of him.

"Boyfriend?" Patricia asked. "And how long has it been since she bestowed that title on you?"

"First time she's ever called me that," Danny replied with a shrug. "Personally I think it has a nice ring to it. Danny Messer. Boyfriend. Extraordinaire. I should make up some business cards with that printed on them."

Patricia glared at him.

Danny smirked and turned his back on her and returned to where he'd been making breakfast.

"This is all very convenient for you," Patricia said casually, as she sidled up to Danny and leaned against the counter closest to him. "You lose the love of your life and your best friend, and then you smoothly slide your way into my son's old life. A decent house to live in, someone that will cook and clean for you. A little boy to kiss and cuddle and call your own. The perfect little ready made family."

"I'm not even going to justify that with a response," Danny told her. "But I will warn you that it's probably best you don't say anything else."

"This is still my son's house," she reminded him. "That is still his wife and his son. And out of respect for him…"

"Out of respect for him?" Danny snorted and shook his head. "It was out of respect for him that I stepped up to the plate and took care of Samantha when everyone else bailed on her. Out of respect for him, I made sure that the bills were paid and she had food to eat and she was taking care of herself and the baby she was carrying inside of her. His baby. And where were you? Where did you go? You fucked off the second you realize Don left you nothing. So where is your respect for your son?"

"You don't know…"

"No, I do know," Danny snapped. "I know about all the threats you've made. I know how you called Child Protective Services on Sammie. I know how you're trying to put the fear of God into her. Scaring the shit out of her by telling her you're going to take her baby away. That she's not a good mother. That baby is her entire world. He's all she has left of the love of her life. She made that baby with your son! DJ is Don's son and Sam was his wife. And you stand here, knowing your causing her sheer hell and you have the nerve to accuse me of not having any respect for your son? How respectful of him are you being when you're threatening to destroy his wife by taking his baby away from her?"

"She's not in her right frame of him! The child needs love and stability and…"

"He needs his mother!" Danny bellowed. "What he needs is his mother! And she loves him to the ends of the earth and she gives him a great home! She's an amazing mother! But you wouldn't know that 'cause you've had your head up your ass for a year now! You live a hundred yards away and you come over twice a month? What kind of bullshit is that?"

"I find it hard to take criticism from someone that thinks it's okay to fool around with his best friend's wife," Patricia fought back.

"Don's dead!" he shouted. "He's dead! And I know it hurts like a sonofabitch to hear that 'cause it hurts like a bastard to say it. But he's gone and he's not coming back. And neither is Lindsay. And neither of them would have wanted us to be miserable and alone for the rest of our lives!"

"And I highly doubt either of them would have wanted you two to comfort each other in more ways then one," she snidely remarked.

"What Sam and I do is none of your business," Danny informed her.

"When it's happening around my grandson, it is my business."

"And what is it you think we're doing? Attacking each other in front of him? Getting naked and having sex in crazy ass positions in crazy ass places?" he laughed and shook his head and turned back to the task of making breakfast. "Give me a break. There's nothing going on between us that's putting DJ in harms way."

"And how long has whatever is going on been going on?" she asked curiously.

"That's our business," Danny replied.

"Well can you at least be a gentleman and tell me if it was before or after my son died? Were you keeping his wife comfy and warm on lonely nights when he was still alive? Were you carrying on while he was out putting his ass on the line each and every day for this city?"

Danny's eyes flashed with anger and he fought to control his temper. "I never, ever laid a hand on her while she was with Flack. I would have never done that to him. And for you to come in here and excuse me and Sam of doing anything inappropriate while he was still alive…well you've got a lot of fucking nerve."

"I think what I have is the right to some answers."

"And I have the right to kick your ass on out of here and tell you to never come back. But you know what? DJ is your grandson. I get that. If it wasn't for him needing to be attached to his dad's memory through you and the rest of your family, I'd personally boot your ass on out of here. But because I respect Flack and the life that he helped bring into this world, I'll ask you to leave. Nicely."

Patricia's lips quivered, a smirk playing at the corners. "And you think you can just come in here and take over my son's life?"

"No one is trying to take anything over," Danny told her. "We're trying to start over. Together. And I'm sorry if you can't accept that, but it's the way it is."

"You're right," she sighed. "I can't accept it. I can't accept that the one person in my son's life that he trusted and loved like a brother is turning around and taking everything away from him."

Danny shook his head sadly. "I'm not taking anything away from him. But everything was taken away from Samantha a year ago. Don't you think she deserves to get something of herself back? Don't you think she deserves to be happy? That she deserves to laugh and smile? That she deserves to be loved?"

"I do think she deserves that," Patricia said. "I just don't think that the person who should be doing all of that for her should be you."

"Well I guess that's just something you're going to have to get over," Danny told her. "And if you can't…" he stopped short of telling her to go fuck herself as Sam came back into the kitchen, DJ sleeping along one arm, Montana the puppy tucked under the other.

"What is that?" Patricia asked, eyeing the puppy with sheer contempt.

"This is Montana," Sam replied proudly. "She's a puggle. Danny gave her to me."

"Well isn't that just very sweet of him," her mother in law commented. Sarcasm oozing from every pore.

"I thought it was," Sam said and pressed a kiss to the puppy's head before sitting it on the floor. "It's the first time in a long time someone has done something nice for me. It's nice to smile again. Is there a reason you came over here, Pat? Other then to spy?"

"I came over to see if you wanted to come by for dinner this evening," her mother in law answered. "But seeing as your entertaining company of your own…"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Sam said. "I appreciate the offer, but…I'm busy."

"That I can see," Patricia huffed as she headed for the patio door. "You know…" she paused before sliding across the screen door. "I hope that the two of you find it easy to sleep at night doing what you're doing."

"Actually," Danny said. "Last night was the best sleep I've had in an entire year. So something tells me my conscious is content and squeaky clean at the moment."

"Well let's see how long it stays that way," she snapped, and quickly let herself out of the house.

"Have a nice day!" Danny called to her. "What a bitch…" he muttered and turned back to the waffles cooking in front of him.

"That woman has got some serious issues," Sam declared. "How awful was she while I was gone?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he assured her, and snagged a plate from the drain board by the sink. "I don't think she's going to be our biggest fan though."

"She's never been my biggest fan," Sam sighed, and carefully bent down and laid DJ in his seat. "I'm used to it."

"Does it bother you?" Danny asked, dropping a waffle on the plate and holding it out to her.

"Does what bother me?" she inquired in response, taking the plate from him.

"That she's got her panties in a twist over me and you being together."

"I personally care less about what she thinks," Sam said, and helping herself to a handful of blueberries from a bowl next to him, dropped them onto her plate before doing the same with some raspberries. "Like you said, what we do is our business."

Danny grinned and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Boyfriend, huh?"

She shrugged and headed for the kitchen table.

"Is it wrong that I really like the sound of that?" he asked.

She beamed at him over her shoulder. "Only if it's wrong that I like saying it," she replied.

* * *

By the time the afternoon rolled around, the mercury had risen to the low eighties. For the second day in a row, the remaining hours of May proved to be beautiful and relaxing. With the warm sunshine beating down and a refreshing breeze tousling the leaves on the trees, Samantha and Danny lay side by side on their backs on a blanket in the middle of the freshly mowed backyard, staring up at the vibrant blue sky and the large, snow white clouds that rolled lazily by. Laughing and chatting as DJ slept peacefully in his portable playpen under the shadow of the large oak tree several yards away and Montana the puggle chased a tennis ball around the yard.

"That one right there looks like a Harley Davidson Sportster," Danny commented, raising his left arm to point a finger skyward. "But not one of the new ones. I'm talking about the old school ones. With the kick starters. Know what I'm talking about?"

With a slight frown, Sam turned her attention away from the clouds and looked at him.

"Come on…you can't tell me you don't know what an old school Harley Davidson Sportster looks like. Don't go all Lindsay on me. Small town girl I can understand. Someone born in the city has no excuse."

"I know what they look like," she informed him. "My first ever boyfriend had one. I was fifteen and he was eighteen and he owned this kick ass Harley. He wore this leather jacket and torn jeans and the big, riding boots. And he had long, beautiful black hair he wore in a ponytail and a few tattoos and…"

Danny arched his eyebrows, his blue eyes regarding her in amusement. "Had a little bit of a thing goin' on for bad boys, huh?"

"He was a bad ass," Sam giggled, rolling over onto her side and resting her chin on his shoulder and her hand on his stomach. "You know the type. Walking around with that cocky, arrogant swagger, no respect for authority, thinking he's the shit 'cause he smokes and drinks underage."

"Guy sounds like he was a complete tool of you ask me," Danny commented.

"He was from Pelham Bay. Part of the crew."

"Well that explains why he was moron right there. So that's how you knew Sonny Sassone and my brother Louie? Ran into them while you were kickin' it with that tool?"

"A few times while I was with him there were run ins with the Tanglewood Boys," Sam said. "Nothing really major. Just a lot of threats and insults tossed back and forth. A couple of little physical altercations here and there. But your brother…I don't know. He just didn't seem like he belonged with them. 'Cause while Sonny was calling us girls bitches and hoes, Louie was always smiling at us and shelling out compliments and holding doors open for us. He just didn't seem…he just didn't seem like one of them."

"Louie always did have a soft spot for anything that walked with a wiggle," Danny mused. "He probably just thought you were cute and wanted to make a good impression. Maybe he was hoping you'd stop dating the Pelham tool and hook up with a Tanglewood tool."

"Is that your new favourite word?" she laughed.

"I've been hanging around you way to much," Danny told her, wrapping his arm around her slender body and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You and all your Sam-isms."

"My Sam-isms," she laughed even harder. "I can't believe you and Donnie ever started calling my sayings that."

"Well we needed to call them something there's so damn many of them," he teased.

"It's how I roll," she concluded.

Danny chuckled heartily. "You know, most of the time I look at you and Adam and I think, how can two people that look so different be related? And then you say something like that and I realize you two are actually cut from the same cloth. 'It's how I roll' You're definitely a Ross."

"What a pair," she said, nuzzle his cheek with her nose. "A Ross and a Messer."

"It's the thing ulcers and grey hairs are made of." Danny declared.

"You're mean!" she cried and playfully slapped his chest. "What is it with you men picking on me all the time?"

"It's fun," he told her. "And I don't care what you say. That cloud did look like a Harley Sportster."

"I don't know how a cloud looks like a motorcyle, but if that's what you think…"

"Hey, when you're watching clouds, things are up to interpretation are they not? If I see a Harley Sportster, then that's what it is, a'right?"

"A'right," she said with a sigh and rolled over onto her back. "My turn…that one there…" she pointed skywards. "Looks like a bunny rabbit."

"A bunny rabbit?" Danny laughed hysterically. "That is the best your imagination can come up with? You're usually so sick and twisted. I was expecting something a little colourful from you. You going all girly and soft on me, Brooklyn? A bunny rabbit?" he tugged playfully at her pony tail as she sat up. "A cute and fluffy bunny wabbit?"

"Be quiet," she grumbled, helping herself to a handful of peanut M&M's from the open bag sitting alongside of the blanket. The candy was in good company with a bag of Zesty Doritos, some red liquorice and a container of wine gums. Along with two small bottles of Coke. "You just said that cloud watching was up to interpretation."

"It is," he was still chuckling as he reached out to rub her back softly. "I just didn't expect you to go all fluffy on me. I was expecting you to come out with something wild and crazy and suddenly you bust out talk about cuddly, wuddly bunnies."

She glared at him over her shoulder.

"Wascly wabbit," Danny said in a perfect Elmer Fudd impersonation. "I'll get you, you wascly wabbit."

"I am warning you now, Danny. Stop while you're ahead."

"Silly wabbit," he continued, speaking in his normal voice as he rolled over onto his side and snaked an arm around her waist. Her shirt had lifted slightly, revealing a slice of that large tattoo that graced the small of her back, and he lifted the fabric higher and pressed his lips to her spine. "Trix are for kids."

She grabbed a hold of an M&M, twisted sideways and pelted it at his face.

"My eye!" Danny exclaimed, slapping his hand over his right eye. "What was that for? Was that really necessary! Chucking a Smartie at me?"

"It was an M&M I'll have you know. And yes. Yes it was necessary. That will teach you to pick on me, Daniel."

"You blinded me!" he cried. "Blinded by a piece of candy! I'll never be able to work again! What do I tell the department? What excuse do I give Mac? My girlfriend blinded me with an M&M during some crazy ass, food inspired foreplay?"

"I save the ice cream, whipped cream and chocolate sauce for my kinkiness thank you," she said.

"You're vicious," he declared, flopping over onto his back. "I should sue you for physical and emotional pain and suffering."

"Don't be such a baby," Sam said, and setting the back of chocolate coated peanuts on the ground, got up onto her knees and turned around. "Here…let me…" she reached for his hand and attempted to pull it away from his face.

"Leave me alone! You've done enough!"

"It can't be that bad," she told him. "I doubt I blinded you. I doubt you're going to lose your eye because you got hit with an M&M. Let me look at it."

"I'll never live a full and productive life again!"

"Stop it," she scolded. "It could not hurt that bad. See, if you had have never given your glasses up this never would have happened. Let me just look at your eye. You're starting to freak me out here."

"It's burning!" he cried. "It feels like my eyeball is going to explode!"

"Then let me look at it!" she snapped and tore his hand away from his face. "Open your eye, Danny and let me look."

"I can't! I can't open it! You've seriously blinded me!"

"Would you please just let me look? I'm sure it can't be that bad. Stop being such a suck. Do you want me to take you to a walk in clinic and have them look at it? Maybe even the ER?"

He gave a small laugh at the concern in her voice and opened his 'injured' eye. "You are so goddamn gullible," he declared.

"Asshole!" she fumed and smacked his stomach. "I thought I seriously hurt you."

"With an M&M? Are you for real?"

"Well you were very convincing," she reasoned, suddenly embarrassed.

"I was just yanking your chain, Brooklyn," he said. "But you know, it would be nice if you kissed it better?"

She smiled and leaned over him and placed a tender kiss to his eye. Following it with another kiss to his forehead. Then to his other eye, then the bridge of his nose and the tip. She bypassed his lips and pressed a kiss to his chin. "Better?" she asked.

"Absolutely," he replied, and reaching up, laid a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her down on top of his, his mouth seizing hers in a long, intense, toe curling kiss.

She smiled at the end of it, her eyes closed. "Mmmm…" she said. "That was kind of nice."

"Kind of?" he asked, feigning offence.

She opened her eyes and nodded and turned her back towards him. Then laid down with her head on his stomach.

Danny sighed contently and closed his eyes, and brought his hand to rest on her stomach. His fingers sneaking below the bottom of her top and softly teasing her smooth skin. One fingertip tracing a perfect circle around her navel. He felt her tense a little, and then grinned at the goosebumps that took over her.

"I think you should stop doing that," Sam told him, and reached under her shirt to remove his hand. She entwined her fingers with his and rested both of their hands on her stomach.

"Didn't realize it would bother you so much," he commented.

"It's not that it bothers me," she said. "It's just that…it makes me…" she sighed. "It makes me horny, okay?"

He laughed. "All the more reason for me not to stop. How about this?" he asked, bringing his free hand up and stroking the outer rim of her ear.

She giggled and moved her head away from him. "You can't do that either," she replied. "I'm very sensitive under normal circumstances. And it's been a year since…well, you know. So I am on a pretty intense hair trigger at the moment."

"Join the club," Danny said. "Maybe me and you need to sit on opposite sides of the yard from each other."

"I don't think that's necessary," she told him. "We just need to…be careful with what we do."

"How about this than?" he inquired, and slid his hand down to her neck, his fingers tenderly stroking her skin along the edge of neckline of her top.

She gave a sigh and closed her eyes. "That feels really, really nice," she said. Then giggled when his fingertips brushed against the hallow of her throat.

"I give up," Danny declared.

"You don't have to stop," she told him. "I just…I like the way that feels. Maybe a little too much."

"Nothing wrong with liking the way something feels," he said. "The more you like it the better, right? I already told you we're moving at your pace here. I'm not going to do anything that you're not comfortable with, Sammie. You're not okay with something, just tell me. I'll understand."

"I like what you're doing right now," she told him. "And I don't want you to stop."

He smiled and closed his eyes. His fingers continuing the feathery strokes against her skin as he relaxed in the warm sunshine. The gentle breeze tickling his bare feet and the soft fragrance of her rose scented body lotion wafting over him. Everything about that moment seemed so perfect. The amazing weather, the beautiful, alluring woman sitting so close to him. The gentle, loving progress of their relationship. Life was moving at a decent pace and for the first time in a long time, Danny felt as if something was finally going right. That he was where he was meant to be.

"Did you know?" she asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

"Know what?" he inquired.

"About someone coming forward and laying claim for the plane crash," Sam replied, using her free hand to snag a piece of liquorice from the bag.

Danny's eyes widened and he swallowed noisily.

"I read it in the 'net last night after you went to bed," she said. "I went to check the day's headlines and saw it. Did you know?"

"I did," he admitted reluctantly.

"Is that really why that FBI agent was here yesterday? I mean, I know he had Donnie's badge to give me. But the FBI doesn't normally send a field agent to do things like that. Usually its someone with public relations or even a spokesperson from the NTSB. I knew something was up, but I was just so relieved with getting something of Donnie's that I didn't question it."

"He thought he'd kill two birds with one stone," Danny told her. "Give you the badge and check on you. Some families have been getting threats from the same organization claiming responsibility for the crash."

She nodded in contemplation. "It said that they're Lebanese extremists," she said. "But they didn't give a reason to why they'd blow up the plane up. It wasn't as if it was an international flight."

"Maybe it's just a hoax," Danny reasoned. "Someone just fucking around."

"And if it's not?" she asked.

"If it's not, then more details will come out and the FBI will investigate."

"What do you think?" Sam inquired. "Honestly. Tell me the truth, Danny."

He sighed heavily and let go of her hand as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. "I think," he replied, as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "That these people are nothing but fucking wackjobs with nothing better to do with their time then make shit up. I believe the NTSB when they say it was mechanical failure. I don't think it was a bomb. Or terrorism of any kind. It was just a horrible, tragic accident."

"You sound pretty certain," she observed.

"I am a hundred percent certain," he told her, hoping he sounded more confidant then he felt.

She smiled and turned her face towards him.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to upset you on the anniversary," he told her apologetically.

"Which is the exact reason I didn't mention it to you," she said.

He kissed her softly and laid his forehead against hers. "So I was thinking," he mused, as he wrapped both arms around her. "Maybe we can go out on a date. Like a real date. A dress up kind of date. Fancy restaurant, candlelight, some drinks. Maybe a ride in one of them horse drawn carriages in Central Park."

She turned around to face him and curled her arms around his neck. "Why Detective Messer, are you trying to woo me?"

He grinned. "I don't know if it's wooing exactly….Why? Is it working?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Then it's wooing," he laughed.

"I think a date sounds really, really nice," she said. "Do I get to see you in a suit?"

"What? You don't like me in my jeans and my favourite green green t-shirt?" he teased.

"I do…" she said. "But I think you could look really, really, really hot in a suit."

"Okay…do I get to see you in a dress?"

"You saw me in a dress yesterday," she reminded him.

"I mean a dressy type dress. Something with spaghetti straps or no straps. Something sweet and sexy and totally hot. Red. I'd kill to see you in something red. With your hair up. Now that I'd kill to see."

"I will see what I can do," she said and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I have a request."

"Please no more dancing," he told her. "I've had enough dancing to last me a lifetime."

"No dancing," she promised. "I want you to wear your glasses on our date. I love your glasses."

"I think that can be arranged," he told her, and covered her mouth with his in a long, slow, lazy kiss. "I could get used to this," he said, stroking her back as she laid her head on his shoulder. "This whole honeymoon type period we got going on. I like this."

She smiled against his neck. "So do I," she said.

He pressed a kiss to her temple and laid a hand on the back of her head, holding it to his shoulder as he tightened his hold around her with his free arm. He heard her heart beat in unision with his. He felt her fingers gliding up and down the back of his neck and smelled her body lotion and remnants of the shampoo she used that morning. He felt her lips against his neck and her eyelashes flutter against his skin as she closed her eyes.

_I could get really used to this_, he thought.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone that is reading! I appreciate each and every one of you and I am so glad that you all are enjoying this as much as I am enjoying writing it. So please R and R folks! Makes my day!**


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY, CSI OR ANY OF ITHE FRANCHISE CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK, DJ FLACK AND ANY OTHER CHARACTERS YOU DO NOT RECOGNIZE.**

**A/N: FOR THOSE WHOSE ASKED FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS, HERES THE FIRST OF MANY THAT WILL GRACE THIS STORY! ENJOY!**

**THIS CHAPTER WAS WRITTEN AND ORIGINALLY POSTED IN LATE FEBRUARY, IN CASE ANYONE QUESTIONS WHETHER OR NOT IT'S MY WORK. BUT THE RETURNING READERS WILL REMEMBER IT, I'M SURE.**

**USE OF ITALICS DENOTES A FLASHBACK**

* * *

**Holding onto heaven**

"Remember those walls I built?  
Well baby they're tumbling down  
And they didn't even put up a fight  
They didn't even make a sound  
I found a way to let you in  
But I never really had a doubt  
Standing in the light of your halo  
I got my angel now  
It's like I've been awakened  
Every rule I had you breakin'  
It's the risk that I'm takin'  
I ain't never gonna shut you out  
Everywhere I'm looking now  
I'm surrounded by your embrace  
Baby I can see your halo  
You know you're my saving grace  
You're everything I need and more  
It's written all over your face  
Baby I can feel your halo  
Pray it won't fade away  
Hit me like a ray of sun  
Burning through my darkest night  
You're the only one that I want  
Think I'm addicted to your light  
I swore I'd never fall again  
But this don't even feel like falling  
Gravity can't forget  
To pull me to the ground again."  
-Halo, Beyonce

* * *

Danny Messer was in heaven.

Or at least close to it.

Thousands of miles away from the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple, he stood on the balcony of his hotel suite in Negril, Jamaica, leaning over the railing as a crisp, refreshing breeze blew in off of the ocean. The scent of salt water hung heavily in the air as the sun began to slowly emerge on the horizon, the golden rays causing the rippling waves to glitter majestically. He'd seen a lot of sunrises in his time, but nothing could compare to the stunning display of simplistic, natural beauty he was witnessing.

Ten stories below, powdery white sand stretched for several miles. When he closed his eyes and imagined himself walking along the expanse of beach, he could feel the cool, silken grains beneath his bare feet. When he pictured himself bending down to scoop up a handful of sand, he could feel the luxurious texture of it as it trickled between his fingers. He felt peaceful and relaxed as he stood there, listening to the waves and breathing in the air. Enjoying every possible moment of silence before his children woke up. Bundles of energy ready to start the day and their week vacation.

They had arrived in paradise at close to ten thirty the previous evening. Since the devastating crash that had killed Lindsay and Flack seven years before, neither he or Sam had ever even thought of climbing aboard a plane. They'd been content to keep their feet firmly planted on the ground. Never travelling anywhere that couldn't be reached by car, and balking at opportunities to attend work related conferences in different states and outside of North America. The thought of getting on a plane had terrified them both. Danny had been able to keep his deep rooted fear just that. Locked deep inside. He admitted to no one that the mere mention of flying made him physically sick to his stomach. That when he thought of stepping aboard a plane, his heart pounded and his hands shook and his body quickly became covered in a cold sweat. He used Samantha as an excuse for not travelling. Saying that she refused to get onto a plane and that he refused to force her to do something that petrified her. She was more open and honest with her paranoia. If someone suggested she attend a conference or go on a trip, she looked at them with arched eyebrows and came right out and asked if they were out of their goddamn minds. There was no way in hell that she was getting on an airplane and it was simple as that.

Then Nick Stokes had to decided to get married in Jamaica.

Despite a difficult beginning wrought with emotion and turbulence, the Texan and the mobster's kid from Staten Island had become the best of friends. It had taken Danny months to warm up to Nick. It had been nothing against the guy personally. Nick was down to earth and warm and friendly and had a great sense of humour. And he was a hard worker. Tenacious and reliable, Danny had trusted Nick, as a colleague, with his life from day one. But getting to know each other personally had been a long and extremely rocky road. Danny consistently turned down Nick's suggestions they hang out and grab a beer. He knew that Nick had lost someone close to him, a best friend, in Las Vegas and it had been one of the reasons why he'd sought a new beginning in a different city. Danny didn't want to be a replacement for Warrick Brown, and he didn't want Nick Stokes attempting to be a replacement for Flack.

No matter how many times Danny balked or made up some pathetic excuse, Nick had never abandoned his quest on creating a friendship between the two of them. He understood full well why Danny was so gun shy about getting close to anyone. It wasn't easy to accept a newcomer into the fold, especially one that took your fiancee's place on the team and who was trying to work himself into your life after the death of your best friend. Nick got all of that. He had lost someone he'd loved like a brother the moment that Warrick had been murdered. He had never been the same after that.

It had been a loss that he had never been able to accept, and he'd carried guilt like a ten ton brick around his neck for a staggering amount of time. He had been haunted with what ifs. What if he hadn't hung around to pick up that pretty little waitress that had been flirting with him all night? What if he'd just gotten her number and insisted that he and Warrick grab a beer? What if he'd just gone home with his best friend instead sending him out into the night all alone?

What if he hadn't 'missed' that day? What if common sense had never won out and he'd gone through with killing Undersheriff McKeen? What if he'd gotten true justice for Warrick and put that bastard six feet under where he truly belonged?

Those were questions that Nick Stokes would never get the answer to. Even though they'd haunt him for the rest of his days. He had simply gone on with his life, keeping his insurmountable grief bottled up inside and getting out of bed each and every day and putting one foot in front of the other. A piece of him had died along with Warrick that day. He'd lost his passion and his drive for the job. Going to work had become nothing more then the quest for a pay check when it should have been about the quest for justice and truth. And when Grissom had left…well that had been the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. Nick had sucked it up and nursed his broken heart for a year before finally saying enough was enough and putting in for a transfer.

Going to New York City had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. Even if he was a fish out of water at first. Manhattan alone made Vegas look like a sparrow fart town. He was amazed at the size, and amount of skyscrapers and the fact that there were so many one way streets. He'd nearly gotten himself, and whoever he hadn't to be working with on those particular days, killed a few times by turning down a one way street trying to get to his destination. And while he'd been the one with the 'funny accent' in Vegas, in New York, he found that he was the only one that seemed to talk normal. Brooklyn accents, Bronx accents, Queens accents. One right after another it seemed. He practically needed a dictionary for every dialect he came across just to survive in the Big Apple.

But he had survived. And quickly fallen in love with bright lights of the big city and the people that had become part of his life. He'd thrown himself into his work. Eager to impress and to prove both his worth and his loyalty. He had known, coming to New York, whose shoes he was attempting to fill. He had heard about the plane crash on the news and had known that two members of the NYPD had been among the dead. When he had been hired on by Mac Taylor, the crime lab boss had filled him in on the how the team had been coping with the loss of two of their beloved members. And he'd warned Nick that emotions were still running high and he might not be widely accepted at first. That he wasn't to take it personally, but to accept that the teams wounds were still raw and festering and it wouldn't be easy for them to accept Lindsay's replacement.

It had taken Danny and Sam the longest. Sam had found it hard getting used to having a new partner after sharing her office, and her life, with Lindsay for nearly three and a half years. Danny had simply had trouble accepting that someone was simply taking his dead fiancee's place, and that Nick was making such an effort to get chummy with him.

In the end, it had been Sam that had encouraged Danny to 'play nice' and make friends with the new CSI. She had understood that he was hedging on forming a relationship with Nick out of respect for Flack. That he felt as if he was betraying his best friend and the bond they had shared by allowing Nick into his life. And she'd gently explained that while Danny had always prided himself on being able to cope so well with Flack's death, that he'd always been so confident in his ability to accept the finality of death, that by holding onto the memory of his friendship with her deceased husband, he was in fact, showing he wasn't dealing as great as he thought he was.

Danny could clearly remembering frowning at her as she said those words to him. He'd been sitting in the middle of their rumbled bed in their Staten Island home, a laptop cracked open on his thighs and case files he'd neglected for months but suddenly showed interest in spread out across their comforter. They had purchased the four bedroom, two and a half red brick Victorian home -complete with stained glass windows panes alongside the front door , immaculately kept hardwood floors , gorgeous cove ceilings and crown moulding in each room and a well manicured, large backyard- eight months into their relationship. They had taken the payout she'd received from the airlines and his half of what Lindsay's parents had given him, and put it towards their own home and new furnishings. Items that they could call their own and attach their own memories to.

* * *

"_What's that suppose to mean?" he asked, as she stood at the side of their bed, folding a basketful of clean laundry in a pair of his sweat pants and a tattered Yankees t-shirt she'd pilfered from his dresser. Her hair pulled back into a high ponytail and no makeup gracing her face. _

"_It means you've become a damn recluse," shereplied, pausing in her laundry folding to gently and soothingly rub her five and a half month pregnant stomach. _

_News of a baby had broadsided them. They'd only been together for two months when she'd come down with what they'd thought was the flu. She was still breastfeeding and giving DJ expressed milk and her period had never returned after his birth. Pregnancy had been the last thing they'd expected. She'd gone to the doctor, complaining about lower back pain, dizziness and chronic nausea, and the physician had run the standard tests. Two days later, he was calling with the news that had shell-shocked both Danny and Sam. At that point they were still spending their nights together in the spare room of her home and had never even talked about moving in together. She had been frightened and worried while delivering the news. Afraid that he'd get scared and bolt on her. Not man up to his responsibilities. By that time, he was madly in love with her and would have given anything to be with her. She had given him a second chance at having a life. At having love. And a baby, while complicating their lives, also made their bond even stronger. _

_He rolled his eyes at her recluse comment and went back to his work._

"_I mean look at you," she had gestured towards him with a pair of DJ's jeans she was in the process of folding. "Everyone else is out at Sullivan's and you're holed up in the bedroom doing paperwork."_

"_It's stuff that needs to get done," he argued._

"_Please, Danny. Those case files are months old. Cold cases. They've sat on your desk for God knows how long. And suddenly you just got the urge to work on them? Did you suddenly come up with some new information that's pertinent to the investigation?"_

"_No…I just thought I should redo some of the reports. They're a mess. I can barely read them."_

_She stared at him long and hard._

"_Maybe I just don't want to go out," he told her. "Maybe I just want to stay home with you and DJ. I have to make sure you're okay. You __**are**__ pregnant."_

"_Well no shit Sherlock. But I'm not an invalid. I can manage on my own while you have a night out with your friends."_

"_Our friends," he corrected her. "They're our friends. And maybe I don't like hanging out with our friends without you."_

"_And maybe you're trying to avoid Nick 'cause you're afraid of getting too buddy-buddy with him," she said. _

_Danny snorted at that and turned his attention back to his lap top. "Don't go pulling your psycho-analyzing crap on me, Sammie. You're always doing that. You've always done it. Someone doesn't want to do something that you want them to do or they say something you don't agree with, you start picking their reasons and their behaviour apart. You try to diagnose why someone is acting a certain way. You drove Flack nuts with the crap, and you're starting to drive me nuts with it."_

"_Don't bring Donnie into this," she snapped back. "He has nothing to do with this. You always bring him and my marriage to him up when you feel hostile and defensive about something."_

"_Whose feeling hostile and defensive?" he asked. "I'm not feeling hostile or defensive, babe. I'm just saying it drives me crazy when you analyze me like that. There's nothing for you to analyze. Maybe I'm just not into the whole bar scene now. Maybe I'd rather spend my free time with you and DJ. What's wrong with me wanting to have quiet nights at home? Or with wanting to have as much quality family time as possible? What's wrong with all of that?"_

"_There's nothing wrong with it. I'm not saying there is. I just hope you're doing all of those things because you really want to and not because you're afraid to get close to anyone."_

"_I'm not afraid to get close to anyone!" Danny argued, struggling to keep his voice down in order to not wake DJ in the room across the hall. "I got close to you, didn't I? Extremely close. I'm here 'cause I want to be. Not 'cause I'm wimpin' out from getting buddy-buddy with Nick Stokes. That's just plain goddamn stupid!"_

_Sam calmly continued folding laundry and laying various items of clothes belonging to the entire family on the bed. "I know Donnie was your best friend." she said. "I know you loved him like a brother. And I know you're still grieving for him. But he wouldn't want you to close yourself off from everyone. He wouldn't want you to go through life never having friends because you have some kind of displaced loyalty to him. I knew Donnie better then anyone. And believe me, Danny. He would not want you to be doing this to yourself."_

_Danny sighed heavily._

"_Nick's a really, really, really nice guy," she continued. "He's trying so hard to be your friend. And you're just shutting him out. Like you always shut people out when you're afraid of getting hurt or feeing disappointed when things don't work out."_

"_I don't close myself off to you," Danny pointed out. "I got a handle on my 'emotional impotence' as you call it , when we started hooking up. You're the only person I let in. You know that."_

"_I am not asking you to bear your soul to the guy. I am not asking you to share your deepest, darkest secrets with him. I am asking you to cut the guy some slack and go out for a beer with him. Make a friend. Would that kill you, Danny?"_

"_I don't have time to make a friend. I don't have time to hang out. I have work. I'm under a lot of pressure and a lot of responsibility is being dumped on me now that Mac is groomin' me for that lead hand position. I've got all that and I've got you and DJ to take care of. I've got a baby of my own on the way."_

"_And that somehow prevents you from having a social life?" Sam asked._

"_If you ask me, you pushing this whole Nick thing on me like this? It's like you want me out of here. Like you don't want me around any more."_

_Sam glared at him, and reaching into the basket of laundry, pulled out one of his t-shirts and shook it out with such force it made a loud, angry snapping noise._

_Danny glanced over at her. Easily recognizing the furious look on his pregnant and hormonal girlfriend's face._

"_Do you realize how ridiculous you just sounded?" she asked, folding the shirt and tossing it onto the bed. "Would I be here right now with you if I didn't want you around? Would I have bought a home with you and be sharing a bed and a life with you? Do you think I'd be having your baby and letting my son call you daddy if I didn't want you around? I love you, Danny. I never thought I'd ever love anyone this deeply or this much ever again. And you showed me and taught me that it was okay to feel this way about someone. That I didn't have to feel guilty for having this feelings and wanting a life with you. So don't you dare sit there and tell me that I don't want you in my life."_

_He looked away from her, feeling ashamed at himself for even second guessing how she felt about him, let alone practically accusing her of attempting to boot his ass on out the door._

_She sighed heavily. "Would you be like this is Don was still alive?" she asked. "Would you be acting like this if he was still here?"_

"_I don't know what I'd do," he admitted._

"_Yes you do. And so do I. You and Don would out at Sullivan's right now making Nick feel like he's welcome. The two of you would be taking him out for nights on the town and regaling him with stories of life within the NYPD. You'd be sitting a booth with Nick and Don right now, watching a hockey game or you'd be shooting pool or playing darts with them. Sharing pitches of beer and wings. And don't try and tell me that none of that is true."_

_Danny nodded slowly. "Okay…so maybe I do know all of that. And maybe you are totally right. But you know what else I know, Sammie? I also know that if Flack was still here, there'd be no me and you. You and I wouldn't be together right now. We wouldn't be sitting here arguing about this. And most of all, that baby that you're having? My daughter? That baby girl wouldn't be here right now either."_

_She had no response to that. Both because she knew it was entirely true, and because there was no answer that could be given that wouldn't hurt the feelings of at least one person in that room. Danny went back to the work spread out in front of him. The clicking of the lap top keys painfully loud in the overwhelming silence that had fallen over them. Sam occupied herself with the remaining laundry. Upon completing all of her folding, she returned all of items of clothing to the basket, separating them in three distinct rows. Danny's t-shirts and boxers, DJ's onesies and rompers and socks, and her underwear and pyjamas. _

"_I still have four more loads to get to," she commented with a heavy sigh. "What do you boys do? Change five times a day? I can't seem to keep up."_

"_I'll do the last four when I get home from work tomorrow," Danny told her. _

_She frowned and used her foot to push the basket across the hardwood floor and into the walk in closet. "I wasn't asking you to do laundry," she told him, standing at the side of the bed once more. "I was just attempting to make a civil conversation with you."_

"_Sounded like you were asking me to do housework in a roundabout away," he said._

"_If I wanted you to do housework, I'd come right out and ask" she told him, as she climbed onto the bed and sat alongside of him. Leaning back against the headboard, she yawned noisily and rubbed her stomach with both hands. "I don't do things in roundabout ways."_

"_True," he agreed. "Think you could hand me that case file?"_

"_Which one?" she asked._

"_The one that your half sitting on. Think you could pass it to me?"_

_She lifted herself up slightly and yanked the folder out from underneath her and held it out to him. Then snatched it back the moment his fingertips made contact with it. _

"_Don't screw around," Danny told her. "I need to try and get as much done as possible."_

"_I'm sorry if I upset you," she said. "That was the last thing I wanted to do. But I don't like seeing you close yourself off to people, Danny. I've seen you do it so many times in the years that I've known you and there's no reason for you to act like that. I love you and I'll support you no matter what you choose to do. You know that. But when I see you purposefully hurting yourself…I can't just sit back and not say something."_

"_We're only talking about me not wanting to make friends with Nick. It's not like it's going to kill me if I don't hang out with him, Sammie."_

"_I know…but since Donnie died…" she sighed heavily. "I just think that you could use someone. A friend. Someone outside of me that you can talk to about things. I mean, if we're having issues at home or if there's something you don't feel comfortable talking to me about, who do you have? You and Hawkes are friends but I wouldn't consider you great friends or him someone you're going to open up to. And Mac's our boss so that rules him out. Who does that leave, Danny?"_

"_Your brother for one. Brendon. Sid."_

"_Adam still isn't ready to accept us. Who knows how long it will take him to accept it. And you said yourself you didn't like Brendon all that much. Because you thought he was an arrogant little bastard who thought FDNY was so much superior to NYPD. And Sid…come on. What do you and Sid have in common?"_

"_Can I have my file now?" he asked._

_Sighing, she reluctantly surrendered it to him. "I'm just asking you to give Nick a chance. You need a friend, Danny. We all need friends. Don't rob yourself of that because you have a hang up over replacing Don."_

"_He was my best friend," Danny reminded her._

"_Was. Perfect word. Was. Past tense. Do you honestly think he's going to be pissed that you make a friend? If anything he's cursing you out for being such a stubborn ass. Donnie loved you like a brother. There was nothing he wouldn't have done for you. And you're almost doing him a disservice by not going on with your life."_

"_I am going on with my life," he said. "You and I are together. We bought a house, we're raising DJ together. We're having our own baby. How am I not going on with my life?"_

"_By locking yourself in the house and not making friends 'cause you're afraid of either replacing Donnie or losing Nick the same way you lost Donnie. You're worried you'll get close to him and something horrible will happen."_

_A smirk tugged at the corner of Danny's lips. "I take back what I said about the psychoanalyzing. It's not bullshit. You're actually pretty damn good at it."_

_She gave a small smile and kissed him softly. "I wouldn't have to do it all the time if you didn't always have so much for me to analyze."_

"_Give me that smart ass," Danny gave a slight chuckle and yanked the folder out of her hand. Tossing it down beside him, he reached out for her. "Come here…" he said, and wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders and pulled her tight into his side. "If it will make you happy and get you off of my ass, I will attempt to make friends with your boy Nicky."_

"_I don't want you doing it for me, Danny. I want you doing it for yourself."_

"_Fine. I will attempt to get my head out of my ass and make a new friend. Okay? Does that make you happy?"_

_She nodded. _

_He pressed a kiss to her temple and rested his chin on the top of her head. "I know we're both still hurtin' over Flack and Lindsay. Parts of us will probably always hurt. We'll probably never heal completely from it. But if there's anything good that came out of what happened, if there's some silver lining in all of this, it's that we found something so amazing together. We managed to find love again. I mean…" he laid his hand on her stomach. "We made a life together, Sammie. We're having a daughter. She's a miracle. And in a way, Flack and Lindsay had a hand in creating her. Because if they hadn't have died, our baby wouldn't even exist. And I wouldn't wish them back if it meant I had to give up my baby girl."_

_She smiled and turned her face into his. Her golden brown eyes locked intently on his baby blues. Staring into his very soul. All her emotions and feelings laid bare on her face and in her eyes. She grinned. "How come…"_

"_Don't you even finish that sentence. I know what you're going to ask me. How come I took my glasses off? Right? How come I took them off while I'm working on the computer especially when that's when I need them the most? Am I right?"_

_She gave a sheepish smile and nodded._

"_Damn you and the glasses. Am I not allowed to rest my eyes a bit? Is there some kind of rule against that or something?"_

"_I love your glasses," she reasoned. "I can't help that, can I?"_

"_I guess there's worse things you could be into," he responded and kissed her. Long and soft. _

"_That was nice," she said, after the kiss had ended and she tickled the end of his nose with the tip of hers._

"_Just nice? Would just nice be enough to keep you around for this long?" he teased. "How about we try that again and see if I can't get a better response then 'that was nice' out of you? Think we can give that a shot?"_

_She nodded and laid her hand on the side of his face as he leaned into her. His lips just brushing hers before their intimate moment was brought to a sudden screeching halt by a sudden, strong kick delivered right to the left side of her stomach. "Owww…" she bit her lip and closed her eyes. "That was not at all nice."_

"_Whoa…" Danny looked down at her stomach. "My baby girl is bending it like Beckham in there."_

"_I think that ultrasound technician was wrong," Sam said, a grimace on her face. "There's no way that a kick like that can come from a girl. No way."_

"_Hey, if she's got her mom's Brooklyn temper, it's more than possible. You okay?"_

_She nodded and opened her eyes. "I think she has your Italian temper," Sam said._

"_That's it, blame it all on me," Danny sighed, a massive grin spreading from ear to ear as his eyes remained riveted on her stomach, where a flurry of activity was taking place._

"_You pissed her off with your stubborn nonsense," Sam told him. "She's saying daddy, you know mommy's right. Give Uncle Nicky a chance."_

_Danny raised an eyebrow. "Uncle Nicky? For real?"_

_Sam nodded._

"_You're kidding right?"_

_She shook her head. "Please, Danny. I'm worried about you. Don't shut people out. I love you and I don't want you see do that to yourself. I saw you do it over Ruben and I don't want to see that again. It nearly broke Lindsay. It almost ruined your life with her. The two of you were able to get past it in the end, but I worry that we won't be able to do that. Please. Do this for me. For me and DJ and our baby."_

_He sighed heavily and nodded. Unable to deny her, our their children that small request._

* * *

The next day at work, Danny had taken the incentiative to ask Nick if he wanted to grab a beer and some pizza after work. The new CSI had stared at Danny as if he'd suddenly grown another head or mutated before his very eyes into some kind of mysterious creature. And then the Texan had give that trademark broad smile of his and nodded and said, "Sounds like plan."

They'd gone to Sullivans and had spent three hours getting to know each other over endless pitchers of beer and a pizza and chicken wings. Danny had found himself, outside of his relationship with Samantha, smiling and laughing for the first time in a long time. He had even found himself opening up about his nagging sorrow that the deaths of Flack and Lindsay had cast upon him. He'd talked about how grateful he was to have fallen in love again. To be given a second chance at life. He was ecstatic over the prospect of becoming a father to his own biological child. He loved and cared for DJ as if he were his own, but there was something indescribable about knowing he had created the miracle of life with someone.

Nick, in turn, had opened up about Warrick and the questions surrounding his best friend's death that still nagged at him. He talked about Grissom, his mentor, quitting and leaving a cavernous void in Nick's already fractured heart. And then, with tears in his eyes and his hands trembling, he told Danny about the harrowing night he'd been abducted from a crime scene and buried alive. How, if he lied still in bed and closed his eyes, he could still feel the ants crawling all over his body and attempting to eat him alive. How he'd put a gun in his mouth, prepared to end it all. He was damaged from the experience. Peramently. And for years he had kept it inside until finally opening up to Danny.

That had been the beginning of what would turn out to be a beautiful friendship. While Nick would never replace Flack and likewise Danny would never take Warrick's place, the two men had formed an impenetrable bond formed on mutual respect and trust. When Danny's daughter -a sickly preemie that weighed just under three pounds and spent over a month in the NICU struggling to get healthy and strong- there'd been no question about who would be named her godfather. And Nick had accepted the role and had been exceptionally close to the tiny, strawberry blond from her very first day on earth.

It had been through that little girl that Nick had met the love of his life two years ago, Colbie Scott, a thirty-one year old NYU grad and practicing occupational therapist who had been assigned to a then two and a half year old Quinnleigh Danielle Messer as the little girl began a series of home visits designed to deal with the small cognitive delays brought on by her being born nearly two months early. Nick had taken to the coming to the house and sitting with Samantha through the appointments that Danny was unable to make it to because of work. And he'd kept his crush on Colbie - a petite and bubbly thing with honey blond hair that tumbled to the middle of her back in thick, luxurious waves and huge green eyes- a secret for nearly a year. Until Quinnleigh was released from the developmental program and he felt he was no longer violating any patient/therpaist code by making his move.

The rest, as the saying goes, was history. Dating soon turned into living together, co-habiting quickly turned into an engagement, and now, nearly two years to the day they first met, Nick Stokes and Colbie Scott were set to become husband and wife. In paradise.

Well at least it's happening to someone, Danny thought with a sigh and yawned noisily. He was happy for Nick. Ecstatically happy for him in fact. And he was honoured when Nick and Colbie had asked him and Sam to be the only witness -apart from the Messer kids- at the their tropical wedding. But a part of Danny was slightly jealous. More then slightly, actually. Because while he'd been loving and raising DJ as his own for the last six years of the little boy's life, DJ was still a Flack. His last name, on all of his school and medical documents was that of his birth father's. And while Danny had suggested many times in the years that they'd been together that he officially adopt his 'son' and make him a Messer, Samantha had always hedged on the idea. The sole purpose of naming him Donald Joseph Flack the Third was to pay respect to his father. The man who had helped give him life.

And Danny, the man who'd physically been there since the child was still in his mother's stomach, wanted DJ to have his last name. DJ would always know he had two daddies. He'd been taught that from an early age and he kept photos of his real dad in a scrapbook his mother had made for him. The kid was the spitting image of Flack. Tall and lenky for his age, short black hair, a dimply smile and big blue eyes. He had been calling Danny 'daddy' from the time he learned to talk, yet knew that his real daddy was in heaven, watching over him. And Danny felt, as long as those memories were observed and respected, it shouldn't matter what the kid's last name was. He wanted DJ to have the same last name of his sister and his brother. And his new sibling that was on the way.

Most of all, Danny wanted them all to be a family. Legally. On paper. He wanted to marry the woman who'd transformed his life and taught him how to love again. He wanted that ring on each of their fingers and the certificate declaring them husband and wife. He wanted it so bad he was physically jealous of Nick Stokes for getting down the aisle before him. For six years he'd fought back the urge to pop the question. Knowing that Samantha wasn't ready to get married again. That was terrified of marrying again because the one man she'd give herself that completely to had left her. A totally irrational fear, but one that he respected and didn't disregard.

Until now, that was. As worried as he was that she'd shoot him down flat, Danny had made a stop at Tiffany's two days before they left for their trip and had dropped a small fortune on an engagement ring. A princess cut diamond surrounded by tanzinites and set in a platinum band that now sat it in its trademark blue box in the bottom of his carry on bag. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to make it's appearance.

_Gotta get your head out of your ass and stop being a chicken shit and think of a perfect opportunity, _he ordered himself, as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger.

"Danny?" a soft, tired voice piped up from behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder and gave his pregnant wife a soft smile. In all intents and purposes, Samantha was his wife. They had been living together for six years and had two biological children together and another on the way. She'd been a full time, stay at home mom since their son Callum, now eleven months, had made his appearance. The baby that currently resided in her stomach and who would be gracing the world with his presence in three months, would be their last. A little boy that they had decided to name Owen Patrick.

"What's a matter, babe?" he asked. "You feeling okay? Baby wake you up?"

She shook her head and ran a hand through her dark, shoulder length hair as she stepped out onto the balcony in her maternity pyjamas. Black and pink stripped satin pants and a black tank top that accented her pregnant stomach. "I thought I heard Callum in the other room, but when I went to check on him he was still fast asleep. All three of them are. DJ's back to sleeping with his head at the foot of the bed again and with his blanket tucked between his legs."

"He always sleeps like that when he's unsettled about something. Maybe the flight freaked him out a bit."

"Maybe," she sighed and stepped up to the railing beside him. "You can't sleep?" she asked, rubbing his back softly and laying her head on his arm.

"I think the flight freaked me out a bit too," he admitted, and taking a hold of her hand, pulled her into from of him and curled both arms around her. "I thought I'd sleep like a baby once we got to the hotel, but I think I've only managed a couple of hours."

"If that," she told him, leaning her head against his chest and hugging his arms to her. "You tossed and turned most of the night."

"Sorry," he said and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I didn't think it was bothering you."

"It wasn't. I still managed to fall asleep."

"You should still be asleep," he told her.

"I saw the balcony door open and you were already missing from bed so I got worried about you."

"What?" he chuckled and nuzzled her ear with his nose. "Did you think I jumped or something?"

"No…I was just worried about you. You haven't seemed like yourelf in the last couple of days. You've been distant and moody and I just…I was just worried about you. About us."

"Never worry about us," Danny told her. "Nothing wrong with us. You think there's something wrong with us?"

She shook her head.

"I've just got a lot on my mind, babe. Work stuff, personal stuff. The whole nine. But there's absolutely nothing for you to stress about. A'right?"

Sam nodded.

"What's my boy up to in there?" he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder and laying a hand on her stomach.

"He's sleeping," she replied. "The one time he's actually sleeping in the early morning hours and I'm awake. Go figure."

"Go back to bed," Danny told her.

"Come back to bed with me," she countered. "Why are you out there?"

"I was watching the sunrise. And thinking."

She arched an eyebrow. "Thinking at six thirty in the morning?"

"Good as time as any when you have insomnia," he reasoned. "Seriously babe, go back to bed. Before the kids are up and tearing the room apart and demanding we get the show on the road."

"I'm only going back to bed if you come with me. This isn't open to debate, Daniel."

He chuckled softly. "She's getting bossy and she called me Daniel. The lady means business."

Sam frowned and directed an elbow at his stomach.

"Just kidding…just kidding…" he said, and tightened his hold on to her. "Just funning with ya, Brooklyn."

She smiled. "Almost ten years since the day we met and you're still calling me that?"

"It's my pet name for you," Danny informed her. "I christened ya with it, and I'll retire it when I'm good and ready. Kapish?"

"Kapish," she replied, and giggled as he nuzzled the side of her neck with his nose. "Let's go back to bed," she said, and slipping out of his grasp, reached for his hand and tugged him towards the open balcony door.

The three kids -DJ and Quinnleigh in their own beds and Callum in a hotel supplied crib- were set up in the bedroom of the suite while Danny and Sam had relegated themselves to sleeping on the pull out couch. Which, surprisingly enough, was more comfortable then their bed at home. But sleeping in the living area gave them some sort of privacy.

"You wanting me to come in to make an honest woman of you?" he teased, allowing her to pull him across the balcony. "'Cause I think we far surpassed that, babe. If you're not an honest woman after all of the Messer germs that have invaded your body, nothing will do it."

"It's way too early for your ill attempts at humour," Sam told him.

"Come on. Admit it. You find me hilariously amusing."

She had no resposne for that.

"Come here for a second," he said, and pulled her into him. "You telling me that you don't find me funny? That my comedic talents weren't one of the things you feel madly and passionately and deeply in love with?"

She just smiled.

"What was it? My boyish good looks? My irresistible charm? My winning smile? My pretty blue eyes?"

Her smiled broadend as she reached around his body and grabbed his ass in both hands. "I am such a sucker for an amazing ass," she informed him.

"I don't know whether to be flattered, offended, or turned on," he told her.

"Hmm…I'd say the first and definitely the last."

He grinned and covered her mouth with his in a long, slow and sensuous kiss.

"Come back to bed, Danny," she whispered against his lips after the kiss ended. "Come back to bed and let me show you what made me fall madly and deeply in love with you."

"You forgot passionately," he told her, then laughed as she grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt and yanked him into the room.

As of that moment, Danny Messer briefly forgot about the island paradise that lay outside of that room.

And concentrated solely on the personal paradise he was encountering behind those four walls.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you. I am truly grateful for all of your support and hope that you continue to read and enjoy! So please R and R folks! Much appreciated.**


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE CSI FRANCHISE OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND ANY OTHER CHARACTER YOU DO NOT RECOGNIZE.**

**THIS IS A FUTURE CHAPTER FOLKS! ENJOY!**

**JUST GETTING THE OLD CHAPTERS OUT THERE! WE'RE ALMOST UP TO NEW STUFF!**

**THANKS TO EVERYONE ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS!**

* * *

**Daddy Danny**

"In my daughter's eyes I am a hero I am strong and wise  
And I know no fear  
But the truth is plain to see  
She was sent to rescue me  
I see who I want to be  
In my daughter's eyes  
In my daughter's eyes  
Everyone is equal  
Darkness turns to light  
And the world is at peace  
This miracle God gave to me  
Gives me strength when I am weak  
I find reason to believe  
In my daughter's eyes  
And when she wraps her hand around my finger  
Oh, It puts a smile in my heart  
Everything becomes a little clearer I realize what life is all about  
It's hanging on when your heart  
Has had enough  
It's giving more when you feel Like giving up  
I've seen the light  
It's in my daughter's eyes."  
-In My Daughter's Eyes, Martina McBride

* * *

Danny woke to sunlight cascading into the hotel room and a tiny yet persistent finger poking the tip of his nose. Groaning loudly, he cracked open his eyes and groaned loudly as a ferocious flood of light assaulted his weary, throbbing eyes. He rolled over onto his back and placed a forearm across his face. After some heavy duty extra curricular activities that saw him with barely enough energy to pull on a wife beater and a pair of boxers, let alone make his way across the room to unlock the door that separated the living area from the bedroom, he had finally managed to fall asleep. The sounds of the rippling ocean waves mixed in with his 'wife's' soft, rhythmic breathing and the feel of her heart beating against him as they lay cuddled together in a blissful afterglow, had conspired against him and sent him quickly and easily into a comfortable, peaceful slumber.

"Daddy…" Quinn-leigh's tiny voice piped up as she stood alongside of the pull out.

She continued to jab at the tip of his nose with the finger of one hand, while she played with the St. Michael -the patron Saint of police officers - medallion that sparkled in the sunlight as it dangled from a the thick platinum chain around his neck. He had long ago retired his dog tags in favour of the pendant and chain that Sam had given him for their first Christmas together.

"Time to get up daddy…" his daughter said. "I want to go swimming. I want to go and see Big Bird and Cookie Monster and Elmo."

Danny moaned and silently assaulted Nick Stokes with a litany of nasty names and profanities. Hating on his close friend for choosing to get married in the family friendly environment. While the Sandy Bay Resort run by Beaches was all inclusive and unbelievably beautiful, it also included daily shows and random appearances by all of the Sesame Street characters. Two weeks ago, when checking out the hotel's website and confirming his family's reservation, Danny had made the mistake of allowing his daughter to sit on his lap while at the computer. Because while he was highly intrigued by the seemingly endless supply of kids activities and a nanny service, Quinn-leigh had taken one look at the pictures of Big Bird, Elmo and Burt and Ernie and had nearly went into convulsions from sheer excitement. And for the fourteen days that had followed, it was all she would, and could, talk about morning, noon and night.

And Quinn-leigh Danielle Messer loved to talk.

A lot.

"Wake up daddy…please? I want to go swimming and see Big Bird and Elmo and Cookie Monster and.."

"I know…I know," he told her. "But we're here for a week and a half. We've got lots of time to do all of that. "

"How long, daddy?" she asked curiously.

"Eleven days," Danny replied.

"Eleven days? How many sleeps is that?"

"Well, counting last night, nine now. That's a lot of time to do everything you want to do. So go back to bed for a little bit, okay? Are your brothers still sleeping?"

"Yeah…but I don't want to sleep, daddy. I'm not tired."

"Well daddy's tired and so is mommy. We're all sleeping in today."

"But I don't want to sleep!" Quinn-leigh protested. "I want to go swimming! I'm thirsty! I'm thirsty and hungry, daddy!"

Danny sighed and removed his arm from over his eyes and checked the watch on his right wrist. "Quinn-leigh Danielle…it's only quarter to eight. Daddy didn't fall asleep until quarter after seven. Do you know how long that is?"

"A long, long time?" she asked.

"Half an hour," he told her. "I can't function on only a half an hour of sleep."

"Sure you can daddy!" she chirped. "You just have to drink lots and lots of coffee!"

He chuckled and reached out to run a hand over her silky hair. It was wavy and reached just below her shoulders and sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight. He had been somewhat shocked at her appearance following her birth. A nurse had led him -all gowned and masked up- to the incubator in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit where his frail, sickly newborn daughter lay with tubes and wires invading her body. She'd been wearing nothing but a preemie diaper and a pair of impossibly small white and yellow knit booties and hospital bracelets had been wrapped around both of her ankles. Her skin had been red and nearly translucent and her arms and legs so slender it appeared as if they'd snap if anyone dared touch them.

Yet it wasn't the IV lines and heart sensors and the intubation tube that had caught his eyes first. Nor was it the piece of five by seven cardboard taped to the end of the incubator. It had had Precious Moments stickers attached to it and big, black letters that read BABY GIRL MESSER 2LBS 8 OUNCES 12 INCHES. The first thing that Danny had noticed was the tiny white bow gracing the side of his daughter's head. A head that boasted an astonishing amount of red hair. He had honestly wondered at first if the wrong name card had been put with the wrong baby. Red hair? Neither he or Sam had anyone in their immediate families with red hair. The only explanation he could think of was that it was either a result of his dirty blond hair mixed with his wife's chestnut tresses -which bore natural red highlights - or that someone way down the line on either side had been a red head.

Since then, Quinn-leigh's hair had lightened considerably and had become a shimmering strawberry blond. It had prompted her father to nickname her Strawberry Shortcake. Both because that was her favourite cartoon character, and because of her hair colour and petite stature. And from the day she had made her early and not so safe entrance into the world, the running joke was that Samantha and the mailman had mixed it up and Quinn-leigh was the result.

"I'm thirsty daddy," she repeated. "I'm hungry. Please get up? Please?"

"A'right…a'right…give me a second here, baby girl. We don't want to wake mommy up."

"Mommy and baby Owen need sleep," Quinn-leigh announced.

"Yeah…they do. So does daddy, but…" pushing himself up into a sitting position, Danny leaned over Sam's sleeping figure and reached for his glasses that sat on the end table next to her side of the pull out.

"Daddy?" the little girl asked, as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

"What, baby girl?" he inquired, slipping his glasses onto his face.

"How many more sleeps until baby Owen comes?"

"A lot," Danny responded, and yawned noisily as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

"I don't have to share my room do I? I won't have to let the baby play with my toys or borrow my clothes will I?"

"Quinn-leigh, we've been through this at least a dozen times. The baby's going to stay in mommy and daddy's room for a little while and then bunk in with Callum. And you won't have to give up any of your toys or your clothes 'cause all of your stuff is for a girl. Baby Owen is a boy."

"For sure?" she asked, a sceptical look on her cherubic face.

"For sure," Danny replied.

"How do you know that, daddy? That baby Owen is a boy?"

"Because mommy had a special test done. The doctor took a needle and poked it into mommy's tummy and took out some of the water that the baby is hanging out in," Danny explained.

"Did it hurt?" she asked curiously. "Did it hurt mommy and baby Owen?"

"Nope. Didn't hurt one bit. And when the doctor did his tests on the water, mommy and I found out that baby Owen is definitely a boy. A hundred percent."

"So then Callum will have to share his clothes and his toys?"

Danny nodded. "That's a strong possibility, yeah."

"Whew…" Quinn-leigh breathed a huge sigh of relief. "I'm really glad that baby Owen is a boy then. Are you happy he's a boy, daddy?"

"I'm just happy he's healthy and has all his fingers and toes and there's nothing wrong with him," Danny told her.

"Me too!" Quinn-leigh agreed.

"And you know why else I'm happy he's a boy?" Danny asked her.

His daughter shook her head.

"'Cause daddy already has his hands full with the girls in his life," he teased, and reaching out, hoisted the little girl up and settled her in his lap. "You and your mommy are going to be the death of me, you know that?" he asked, as he tickled her stomach and sides and showered her cheeks and hair with kisses. "You're both very, very lucky that daddy loves you as much as he does."

"You love us lots and lots!" Quinn-leigh squealed, giggling hysterically as he continued to tickle her.

"Lots and lots and lots and lots," Danny told her.

"All the way to the moon and stars, daddy?"

"And beyond," he assured her, and stopping his playful assault on her stomach, wrapped both arms around her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

She tilted her head back and gave him an angelic smile.

Danny frowned at the sight of her cross eyed. A build-up of pressure in her skull due to her shockingly early birth had caused her retinas to detach at three days of age. And although they'd been successfully surgically repaired, Quinn-leigh's eyesight had been compromised. From the time she was just months old, she'd worn glasses to correct her vision and they'd been told, that as she grew, there was a chance that her retinas could detach once again and need to be fixed. Again. And that it could happen several times throughout her life. Each time, even with surgery, her eyesight would get progressively worse. There was the potential of blindness, mostly caused by the formation of scar tissue. And there was an extra worry that she could easily develop retinoblastoma. Cancerous tumours on one, or both, of the retinas.

"Where's your glasses, baby girl?" he asked. "You know you're suppose to wear them as soon as you get up."

"I forgot…" she replied. "I hate wearing glasses, daddy. I hate people making fun of me."

"You know what? Anyone that makes fun of a beautiful girl like you 'cause she wears glasses is just plain stupid and not worth your time."

"It's not nice to call people stupid, daddy," she scolded him. "Mommy gets mad when DJ and I call people that. You shouldn't be so mean."

"I can be mean to anyone that makes fun of you and hurts your feelings. You're my baby girl. And you know what? I used to get picked on all the time when I was little too. 'Cause of my glasses."

Quinn-leigh's eyes widened. "You did?"

Danny nodded.

"Did it make you sad, daddy? Did you cry?"

"At first. And then my mom, your grandma, she told me that anyone who picked on me didn't deserve to be my friend. And that just 'cause I wore glasses, didn't mean I was any less of a person than anyone else. That I was no different than them. That glasses weren't going to hold me back from being a good person who'd achieve great things. So after that, it didn't bother me anymore when people called me names. And guess what? I did achieve great things."

"Like going to college?" she asked. "Like becoming a police man scientist?"

"Well, yeah…but I was thinking about even bigger and better things. Like meeting your mommy and having you and your brothers. Mommy and you three are the most amazing things that have ever happened to me."

"Four, daddy," she corrected. "There's four of us. Baby Owen, 'member?"

"Let's just say three and half 'cause he's still a wee thing in your mommy's tummy," Danny told her. "Okay?"

Quinn-leigh nodded.

"Good," Danny said and kissed and kissed the top of her head. "Now do me a favour and go and get your glasses and come back here and I'll find something for you to snack on before everyone else gets up. Then we can go and have breakfast. A'right?"

"A'right!" she agreed and then scrambled off of the pull out and rushed to the bedroom.

Sighing heavily, Danny closed his eyes and yawned noisily. Lying back down, he placed his hands behind his head and waited for his daughter's return.

* * *

Beside him, Samantha murmured in her sleep and then stirred. She rolled onto her side facing him and snuggling in close, draped her arm over his chest. Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, her eyes flickered open and focused on him as she gave a sleepy smile.

"Hi," she greeted simply.

"Hey…" he said, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You feeling okay?"

She nodded. "I'm tired," she admitted and rested her chin on his chest. "But I feel fine."

"I got worried when you told me after we made love that you were a little crampy."

"I always get crampy after I orgasm. Pregnant or not. You should know that by now."

"I do know it. Doesn't mean it doesn't still freak me out a bit when it happens. We don't want anything happening to the munchkin."

"The munchkin is fine," she assured him, and taking a hold of his hand, placed it lightly on the side of her stomach. "Speaking of which…"

Danny grinned broadly at the soft kicks and squirms that assaulted her tummy. Despite the fact that he'd been through the sheer miracle of pregnancy and childbirth with her three times already, feeling his baby move inside of her never lost it's excitement, nor did it diminish his wonder at the realization they'd created life together. To know that he was responsible for not only making a child, but ensuring that it was safe both before delivery and for the rest of its life afterwards, was surreal. And he couldn't keep that proud, almost goofy grin off of his face.

"He's hungry," Danny concluded. "He's trying to tell you to hurry up and get your lazy butt out of bed and feed him already."

"My lazy butt…" she laughed into his neck. "It's your fault I'm so tired to begin with."

"My fault? How's it my fault exactly? You could have said no. You could have told me you were too tired to fool around. But did you? No. Not once did you protest or let on that you weren't enjoying it."

"Why would I protest?" she asked, her hand sliding up his chest and across his left shoulder and down onto his muscular bicep. Her fingertips gently tracing every inch of the massive black and grey tattoo that graced his upper arm and spread to his elbow.

After Quinn-leigh had successfully made it out of the NICU and home after a nearly four month stay, he'd decided to splurge on a second, third and fourth tattoo. On the back of his left calf was the Chinese symbols for hope, loyalty and strength. On his left ring finger was a Celtic eternity knot. A permanent version of a wedding band that he hoped to one day replace with the real thing. And the third, much large and more extensive and elaborate dragon that started at his shoulder and saw the body and tail wrapping around his arm and travelling down to his elbow. He had had DJ and Quinn-leigh's names tattooed inside of the dragon's body, and had gone back after Callum's birth and had him added as well. The entire thing had taken four sessions to complete and had hurt like a sonofabitch.

"I don't know," he replied, rubbing her stomach gently. "If you were that tired…"

"It helped me sleep better," she reasoned. "Great sex is always the perfect sedative."

"We need to have it more then," Danny laughed.

She raised her head and frowned at him. "You don't get it enough? Everyone you know tells you you're damn lucky 'cause you get it as much as you do."

"I wouldn't have insomnia if I got it a lot," he teased.

"You have insomnia because you have too much crap floating around in that brain of yours," she said. "You need to just learn to shut everything off and relax, Danny. Instead of dwelling and obsessing over things beyond your control. You need to just chill out and give your brain a rest."

"Easier said then done," he told her. "I've always been mentally high strung. You know that."

"What could you possibly have on your mind that's nagging at you as much as it is?" she asked. "Here we are in paradise and you can't even relax. What is bugging your ass that much that you…"

"I want to get married," he blurted out.

Sam's eyes widened at his sudden and unexpected announcement.

"I want to get married to you," Danny clarified. "We've been together six years now. I've taken care of DJ since day one. I love him as if he's my own. We've shared a life together for all of this time. We have two of our own kids and another one on the way. And I just think that it's time that we took that next step. If you ask me, it's way overdue. I want us to be together legally. Husband and wife."

"But we…"

"I know that we've never talked about it before. I've always steered away from it 'cause I knew you weren't too keen on the idea of getting married again. And I get that. I get that you're afraid to give that much of yourself to me 'cause you're afraid of losing me like you lost Flack. I understand that and I respect that. But I want us to be a family."

"We are a family, Danny. We live as husband and wife. Your children have your last name."

"DJ doesn't," he pointed out. "And I want us to get married and I want to legally adopt him. I want him to have the same last name as his brothers and sister."

"You told me that it didn't bother you that his last name stayed Flack," she reminded him. "You said that…"

"Well it bothers me now," Danny said gently. "And to be honest, it bothers me that your last name is still Flack."

She blinked. "My last name has been Flack for over seven years," she told him. "Don was my husband."

"And he's been dead for seven years. Seven years, Samantha. Why didn't you ever change it? Why didn't you ever got back to being a Ross?"

"I can't believe you're actually bringing this up," she huffed and sat up. "After six years you just decide to start in on me about keeping my dead husband's last name? Your dead best friend's name?"

"I'm not starting in on you," Danny told her as he sat up as well. "I'm just saying that…"

"It never occurred to me to change my name," she said, as she pushed her hair behind her ears and fixed the straps on her tank top. "I never thought about it. I didn't think it mattered to you whether I was a Flack or a Ross. I kept Donnie's name because I was married to him and it was my last name when he died. Sorry for never consulting with you over whether it bothered you or not."

"It's not that it bothers me. It's just that it's been seven years and…"

"And what? There's some rule that says I have to switch back to my maiden name? It's just a last name, Danny. If it upset you that I kept it, why didn't you say anything? If you want me to change it back to Ross, that's fine."

"I don't want you changing it back to Ross. I want you changing it to Messer. I want us to get married. I want you to have my last name."

"It's just a piece of paper, Danny. That's all marriage is. It shouldn't be about signing our names to make something legal. It should be about how we live our lives and our state of mind. We are husband and wife. We have children together. Just because some piece of paper declares me a Messer doesn't mean it's better then what we have now."

"Maybe I want that piece of paper," he argued. "Maybe I want to see your name on things as Samantha Messer. Maybe I want to be able to call you my wife."

"You already call me that," she pointed out.

"Legally," he said.

"What is it with you and doing things legally?" Sam asked as she slipped out of bed.

"I want us to be husband and wife, alright? I want you to have my last name. I want to adopt DJ and have him have my last name too."

"You know how I feel about that," she said. "We've talked about this a million times."

"You're right, we have. And I don't see what the huge issue is here. I was the one that was there for you through the whole pregnancy. I went to doctor's appointments and ultrasounds with you. I was there when you went into labour. I held your hand and I stroked your hair and I was the one that was with you when he was born. I cut his cord. And I've been there for him from day one. Loving him and taking care of him like he was mine."

"Don died!" she cried. "He died and he couldn't do all of that and you stepped up, Danny! You stepped up and you were there for me because you promised him you would be. He died! He didn't get a chance to be there! He died and he left me! He left me all alone to deal with things! And it wasn't suppose to end up that way! We were suppose to have forever and we never got that! And you know what? I was angry at him for so long. I was so mad at him for leaving me like he did. But he didn't have a choice and he made sure that there was someone who would take care of me!"

"I would have taken care of you whether he asked me to or not," Danny told her.

"And you have no idea how much I love you and respect you for being there for me and for loving DJ like he's yours. You didn't have to step up like you did, Danny! I know it must have been hard for you! To love a child that isn't yours by blood. But you're his father regardless of what his last name is. It was you that he called daddy when he learned to talk. It was you that was there when he took his first steps and it was you that took him to school his first day. You're his father! Maybe not by blood, but you're his dad."

"Samantha, just hear me out, okay? I know that keeping Flack's memory alive is important to you. It's important to me, too. We've always taught DJ that he has two dads that love him. His dad that helped make him and whose watching over him from heaven, and me. The dad that takes care of him. He knows that. He doesn't need his last name to be Flack to keep Don's memory alive. You know that!"

"He's your son, Danny," she said, using the back of her hand to wipe the tears that streamed down her cheeks. "He's your son regardless of what his last name is."

"And he's Don's son biologically whether he's got the name Flack or not," Danny countered.

"I know…" she said and yanked a tissue out of the box of Kleenex's that sat on the end table. "I just…I can't talk about this right now, Danny. Okay? I just can't."

"And when can you talk about this, Sammie? Twnety four hours from now? A week from now? Months? Years? When?"

"Just not right now," she pleaded as she dabbed at her eyes. "I'm tired and I'm hormonal and I just can't do this with you right now. Please. No more. Please just back off of me right now."

"Fine…" he sighed heavily and held his hands up in surrender. "You want me to back off? I'm backing off."

"Don't be mad," she begged. "Don't be mad at me over this, Danny."

"I'm not mad at you, babe," he assured her. He climbed off of the pull out and began gathering up the pillows and straightening the sheets.

"You are," she sniffled, watching as he tidied up their bed. "I know when you're mad at me. And you're…"

"I am not mad," he told her. "Frustrated, yes. Mad, no."

"I'm sorry, Danny," she said. "I know it upsets you and I know that you…"

"We're going to need new sheets," he cut her off before she could finish. Yanking the sheets off of the bed, he rolled them into a tight ball and tossed them at the top of the mattress.

"Already?" she asked.

He nodded. "You've already got some biological trace all over the place," he told her. A grin slowly spreading across his face as he teased her.

She gave a small smile. "How do you know it belongs to me?" she asked.

"Want me to grab a Q-tip from the container in the bathroom and swab it and ship it back to the lab?" he chided as he walked around the pull out and journeyed slowly towards her. "You've always been the messy one."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry too, baby," he said sincerely, as he stood in front of her and laid his hands on her hips. "I shouldn't get on your ass like that. I should know by now to back off before it's too late. I just…" he sighed and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I just want is to get married. I want to be your husband. You can't fault me for wanting that."

"I don't fault you for it," she told him and curled her arms around his waist. "And I want that too. Believe me, Danny. I do want to get married. To have you as my husband and to call myself your wife. Legally as you keep stressing. I just…I'm scared, okay? I'm just really, really scared. The last time I gave myself like that to a man he…" she closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath and released it slowly. "When Donnie died I never thought I'd survive without him. And then me and you found something so wonderful and beautiful and you got me through all the darkest times of my life. And when I think about losing you like I lost him…"

"You're not going to lose me, baby. I promise you. You are not going to lose me."

"You can't promise me something like that. You can't stand here and promise me that nothing will ever happen to you. Anything could happen to you while you're at work. And I worry every time you walk out the door that some crazy ass crack head will get ahold of you and…."

"Sammie…" he took her face in his hands. "Being a cop is a dangerous profession. We both know it. We both do the job. But you know what? There's a greater chance of something happening to me outside of work then while I'm clocked in. There's a bigger chance of me walking across the street and getting hit by a car and dying from that then me getting iced by some perp. Shit, I could get on a plane tomorrow and…"

Her eyes widened.

"Okay…bad example. Extrremely bad example. But I'm just saying that the chances of me getting killed on the job? How many cops are there in New York City? How many leave home in the morning and how many walk back in the door safe and sound at the end of the day?"

"And how many don't?" she countered.

"I'm trying to be optimistic here. Both you and I know that the amount of cops in the city compared to the amount of cops that get killed or even injured are on two completely opposite ends of the spectrum."

"I know that but…"

He silenced her with a long, soft kiss. "Have faith in me, Brooklyn. Have faith in us."

"I do, Danny. You know I do."

He placed his lips against her forehead, then pecked the tip of her nose. "I'll never let you fall," he promised. "I won't even ever let you slip."

She smiled at that. The frowned as she noticed a grimace appear on his face.

He backed away from her, releasing her from his embrace and then looking down at his left hand. The same one so severely injured many years before at the hands of the Wilder gang. He flexed it repeatedly, hissing as pain radiated from his fingers, down to his rest and then up his arm.

"Again?" she asked, concern evident in her eyes.

He nodded. After he had had his hand crushed, he'd been told by two separated surgeons that he should have pins and plates placed in it in order for it to heal properly. He had turned down their suggestions and decided to take his chances by letting it mend on it's own. Eleven years later, arthritis was quickly beginning to set in.

"Are you going to be okay?" Sam inquired. "Did you bring some of your medication? You didn't leave it at home did you? I hope that…"

"It'll be alright," Danny assured her, opening and closing his hand and wriggling his fingers, silently willing the pain to go away. "These attacks come and go. You know that."

"I know but…"

The door to the bedroom banged open and Quinn-leigh rushed out. Her glasses - deep pink frames with thick lenses and a silver outline of Hello Kitty's head on each arm- perched on her face and her Strawberry Shortcake bathing suit in one hand, a bottle of sunscreen in the other. Callum's giggling and babbling drifted out from the bedroom, as did DJ's voice, telling his little brother to be quiet and go back to sleep.

"Hi, mommy!" she chirped excitedly. "Will you help me put my bathing suit on?"

"It's not time for bathing suits," Danny told her. "It's time to get all washed up and your teeth brushed and put normal clothes on."

"But you said that we could go and get breakfast, daddy!"

"And once your brothers are cleaned up and dressed, we'll go to breakfast. Just not wearing our bathing suits," Danny informed her.

She pouted. "But I want to go swimming, daddy!"

"And we will go swimming after we eat," he promised. "But you can't wear your bathing suit to breakfast."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because you just can't," Danny replied.

"Why?" Quinn-leigh pressed.

He sighed and looked up at his amused wife. "Think it's funny, huh? How about helping me out here instead of laughing at me."

"Come on," Sam laid a hand on the back of her daughter's head and steered her towards the bedroom. "I'll tell you what, we'll get all washed up and our teeth brushed and ready for breakfast and you can wear your bathing suit **under** your clothes. Okay?"

"Okay!" Quinn-leigh readily and happily agreed. "That's a good idea, mommy! That's the bestest idea ever! You're a lot smarter than daddy."

Danny frowned. "I heard that Strawberry Shortcake!"

"Oh daddy…" she giggled and blew a kiss to him over her shoulder. "You know I love you."

He smirked. "I swear you're four going on fourteen sometimes," he declared.

"I'm just a cheeky monkey!" she cried.

"That you are," he chuckled. "Hey!" he called out to them before they could slip into the bedroom. "I love you guys."

Both mother and daughter smiled at him over their shoulders.

"We love you too, daddy," Quinn-leigh said.

Danny returned their smiles with a broad one of his own. The love and pride for them on clear display all over his face.

His two favourite girls gave small waves in farewell as they disappeared into the next room.

Taking his heart with them.

* * *

"UNCLE NICK-EEEEE!"

The shrill, ear piercing scream reverberated throughout the entire first floor of the Sandy Bay resort. Startling diners that were on their way into the main restaurant to take part in the hotel's renowned breakfast buffet. Just as they were clearing their ears from the audio assault that had just taken place, smiles were spreading across their faces at the sight of a tiny little red head in denim shorts with brightly colored patches of flowers decorating the thighs and the back pockets and a the straps of her little pink bathing suit poking out from underneath her baby blue t-shirt and pink jelly sandles on her small feet, pushing her way through the crowd and racing excitedly to the familiar face waiting by the restaurant's front doors.

Nick Stokes beamed as his god-daughter came tearing towards him. And dropping to his knees, opened his arms wide in invitation.

"Uncle Nick-eee!" Quinn-leigh cried, and vaulted herself into his big, strong body.

"Quinn-leigh Danielle Messer," he said, and enveloped her in his arms and squeezed her tiny body tightly. "How ya doin' pumpkin?" he asked, as he got to his feet with her wrapped securely in his embrace.

"Hi Uncle Nick-eee!" she greeted and planted a noisy kiss to his lips. "Did you miss me?"

"Are you crazy? Do you really have to ask me that?. You know I did. Did you miss me?"

She nodded, her pigtails, adorned with white and pink striped ribbons, bobbing up and down. "I did…" she gushed and curled her arms around his neck. "Lots and lots and lots! Did you know that we took an airplane last night, Uncle Nicky? I've never been on an airplane before. I got to sit in my own seat beside DJ and I wasn't even scared! And then nice lady gave us chocolate chip cookies and chocolate milk and coloring books and crayons!"

"The stewardess, you mean?"

"I don't know…she was just a nice lady. She smelled pretty, too. Callum had to sit on daddy's lap. He wasn't allowed to sit in his own seat. He's too small still. But I wasn't scared at all, Uncle Nicky! It was really, really fun on the airplane! And our room is really, really nice! I get to sleep in my own bed!"

"You do? You're a lucky little girl. You'll have to tell Auntie Colbie about your plane ride and the nice stewardess and your own bed. She's just inside holding a table for all of us."

"Is it true that we're here 'cause you and Auntie Colbie are getting married, Uncle Nicky? Daddy says that's why we got to come here. 'Cause you were getting hitched. That Auntie Colbie was cracking the whip finally. Is that true? What does daddy mean by that?"

"It means that your daddy has a totally distorted view on marriage," Nick told her with a chuckle. "But yes, Auntie Colbie and I are getting married."

"Mommy says that I get to be the flower girl and wear a pretty dress and flowers in my hair and blow bubbles. Is that true?"

"She's talking your ear off already, huh?" Danny asked with a smirk as the rest of the family joined Nick and Quinn-leigh by the entrace to the restaurant.

The kids were a mixed bunch to say the least. Quinn-leigh with her red tresses and freckles and her mother's tiny stature and DJ with his coal black hair, big bright blue eyes, dimply smile and his tall and slender build. He looked, and acted, far older then six. And a half, as he always quickly added when telling people his age.

And then there was Callum. A bubbly, energetic and intelligent baby, he looked exactly like his father. Short, spiky dirty blond hair and wide blue eyes and a lazy, charming smile.

"Just a little," Nick chuckled. "But I'd miss that little voice too much if I didn't hear it all the time. Check you out," he looked Danny up and down, taking in his friend's unshaven face, olive green cargo shorts, Nike sandals and simple white t-shirt. "You think you're on vacation or something?"

"Hey, it's only a vacation when there's no kids involved," Danny declared, moving Callum from one hip to the other.

"Ignore him," Sam said, as she stood on her tip toes to peck Nick's cheek. "He's grumpy because he slept for all of three hours. If that."

"I'm just glad that you're all here safe and sound," Nick told her, as he set Quinn-leigh down on the ground in order to hug DJ in greeting. And to take part in their 'secret' handshake. "Colbie's just inside, holding a table for all of us."

"I'll take the kids in and get them started on breakfast before they all wilt away on us," Sam said, as she took the baby from Danny's arms. Settling Callum on one hip, she took Quinn-leigh's hand in hers. "DJ, hold your sister's hand so none of you get lost."

"I don't want to hold DJ's hand," Quinn-leigh argued. "Boys have cooties."

"I don't have cooties," her brother rolled his eyes. "You have cooties."

"No one has cooties," Sam informed them. "Please children…cooperate. Before I take you both back upstairs and lock you in there for the rest of the trip. Is that what you both want? To spend the entire week and a half in the room?"

"Eleven days, mommy," Quinn-leigh corrected her and reluctantly curled her fingers around her brother's hand. "Eleven days and nine sleeps daddy said."

"Whatever…" she sighed. "Just please…both of you just cut me some slack here and behave."

"Can I have ice cream for breakfast?" Quinn-leigh asked curiously. "If we're on vatation can I eat ice cream for breakfast?"

"Vacation," Sam corrected her. "And no. No ice cream for breakfast."

"Pizza?" DJ asked hopefully.

"No ice cream and no pizza for breakfast. Breakfast food for breakfast."

"Daddy let me eat cold pizza for breakfast yesterday," DJ told her.

"Yeah? Well your dad is mental," Sam said.

"How come DJ has two daddies?" Quinn-leigh asked curiously. A perfectly innocent and random question that she popped off whenever the mood struck.

"Because he just does," her mother replied.

"But how come he never gets to see his other daddy?" the little girl inquired. "How come he just gets to see daddy?"

"Because DJ's real daddy is in heaven," Sam gently explained. "Remember? He died and went to heaven when DJ was a tiny baby. He's an angel. Remember?"

"How did he die?" Quinn-leigh asked. "Was he sick?"

"No, he wasn't sick. He was in an accident and died," her mother replied.

"'Cause he was a police man?" the little girl inquired. "Did the bad guys make him die?"

"Quinn-leigh…." Danny tugged lightly on one of her pigtails. "We've talked about this a million times. Stop asking so many questions and upsetting your brother, okay?"

"I'm sorry, DJ…." she gave a dramatic pout. "I don't want to make you sad. Are you sad?"

"I just don't want to talk about my other dad," he mumbled.

"No one is going to make you talk about it, kiddo," Nick assured him, laying a hand on the top of the little boy's head. "You know, you're extra special. Did you know that?"

DJ shook his head.

"You wanna know why you're extra special?" Nick asked.

The little boy turned his teary blue eyes up at his uncle.

"You're extra special because you **do** have two daddies. Not everybody can say that you know. And not everyone can say that their one daddy is an angel. A guardian angel at that. It's something amazing that you have two daddies that love you. Just 'cause you can't see your dad in heaven doesn't mean he loves you any less. And your dad here…well he loves you more then anything in this world and takes darn good care of you, doesn't he?"

DJ nodded, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah…you're definitely extra special. Two daddies. Wow," Nick shook his head in disbelief. "I tell ya, I wish I had a guardian angel daddy. You're a lucky little boy. 'Cause you've got a daddy up there in heaven keeping an eye on you and a daddy down here that's taking care of you. Do you see how extra special that makes you?"

The smile finally managed to break through. DJ's face lit up and his eyes sparkled.

"Now why don't you go on inside with your mommy and brother and sister," Nick suggested. "Help your mom find Auntie Colbie? Can you do that?"

The little boy nodded and tugged his mother and sister by the hands towards the door.

"Thank you," Sam whispered to her friend, then allowed herself to be pulled inside.

Both Danny and Nick sighed heavily and looked at each other.

"Every so often it gets brought up and he starts feeling sad," Danny felt the need to explain DJ's drastic mood swing. "He never even knew his real dad, but it's like he sits and thinks about it and it starts bugging him and he gets like that."

"You don't have to explain anything to me," Nick said. "It's gotta be hard on the kid, right? Even if he didn't know his dad. You and Sammie talk about him all the time. Always have. Since he was old enough to retain all that information. Doesn't matter if they met face to face or not. He's got pictures of him, he's been told stories about him. In a way, he's formed his own memories about his dad."

Danny nodded in understanding. "It's just hard you know. 'Cause I'm the one that's been there taking care of him and loving him from day one. I remember him calling me daddy for the first time and how I nearly bawled my eyes out right there, being so happy that he saw me as his dad, yet so sad that I was there and Flack wasn't. And then I remember being so angry at him for leaving 'cause he was suppose to be there. He was suppose to be there with Sam through the pregnancy. He was suppose to be in the delivery room. He was suppose to be there taking care of them. Not me. And I was so pissed off that he was missing all that. That he had left her and their baby. I hated him for doing that to them. For a long time I hated him. And I never thought I'd say that about Flack. Ever."

"Anger is all part of the grieving process," Nick assured him. "It's perfectly normal. The important thing is that you lived up to the promise you made to him. You made sure that his wife was okay. You took care of her and saw her through the darkest of days and the lowest of lows. And look what the two of you managed to find in the process. Do you realize how lucky both of you are, Danny? In the midst of such a godawful shitty mess, you found each other. You created a life together. Three lives in fact. And that's the proverbial silver lining right there."

"Sometimes I wonder if we'll ever be completely whole again," Danny admitted. "And sometimes I wonder if she loves me even half as much as she loves him."

Nick sighed and laid his hands on his friend's shoulders. "It's a different love, Danny. The love she had for him and the love she has for you? It's just different. Just like the love you have for her is different then what you felt for Lindsay. Neither love is greater or stronger or better then the other. It's just…different."

Danny cleared his throat noisily and looked away from the other man, anxious to escape Nick's penetrating gaze.

"Don't make me have to tell you any of this ever again," Nick warned, a grin tucking at his lips. "If I ever hear you doubting yourself or what you have with Sam again…well I'll just have to go all Texas Nick on ya and tie you to the whipping post and take you to school. Ya hear me?"

Danny smirked and shook his head. "Someone might over hear that whipping post comment and take it the entirely wrong way," he joked.

"Leave it to you to turn a wonderful, caring and sharing moment into something so twisted," Nick laughed, and slinging an arm around his friend's neck, led the way to the entrance of the restaurant.

"I'm a native New Yorker, Stokes. We're all sorts of twisted. I knew the Big Apple would be too dirty and sour for someone as sensitive and innocent as you."

"Come on…that city and your life has never been the same since I graced both with my presence."

Danny smirked.

"Face it, Messer. You'd miss me if I was gone."

Danny couldn't deny that.

And he most definitely didn't want to think about it. Nick Stokes had, whether Danny had been ready for it at the time or not, become part of his life.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! New and old alike! I appreciate each and every one of you! I hope that you continue reading and enjoying! Please R and R folks! Makes my day!**


	10. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE CSI FRANCHISE OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY DJ.**

**A/N: Almost there folks....just a couple more of the old chapters left!**

* * *

**Open arms, guarded hearts**

"Young hearts, I believe that we are not that far  
From becoming who we truly are  
Love is on its way  
Dreamers, you see everything in color  
While the world is getting darker  
Love is on its way  
So hold on another day  
Cause love is on its way  
You'll find it's gonna be ok  
Cause love is on its way  
Its alright you'll find a brighter day  
Cause love is on its way  
Leaders, show us how to love each other  
It could help us to recover  
Love is on its way  
Lonely, I believe that you will find me  
And together we will truly see that love is on its way."  
-Love Is On Its Way, Jonas Brothers

* * *

She stood at the kitchen sink. Up to her elbows in soap suds, her brow furrowed in concentration as she scrubbed furiously at the broiling pan she'd been letting soak for half an hour while neatly stacked plates and glasses in silverware dried in the rack on the counter. The sliding door that led out onto the back deck was open, allowing a refreshing, early morning breeze to filter into the kitchen. The radio was once again tuned in to the local country station, and she alternated between singing softly to herself and smiling down at her infant son as he bided his time in the battery operated swing that Danny had assembled just two hours before. It had sat in its box for months. Since the team had held a baby shower for her when she was seven months pregnant, and Danny had taken it upon himself to not only set the thing up, but tend to other things that needed attention around the house.

While he'd set to putting the swing together and then changing a worn light bulb in the basement and fixing a broken window lock in the baby's room, Sam had concentrated on preparing dinner. A fabulous meal of garden salad with raspberry vinaigrette dressing, grilled eggplant, zucchini and squash marinated in olive oil and sirloin steak. They'd cracked open a bottle of sparkling cider and enjoyed their dinner outside at the wrought iron table and chairs on the deck. While DJ gurgled noisily and blew raspberries -his new found talent- and batted at toys in his playpen, Danny and Sam had chatted and laughed over their food. The light teasing that had always flowed easily between them since the day they first met had been in fine form.

Yet something more existed within the verbal jabs and the smart ass comments they tossed at each other. Something so much more. It was the new way in which they smiled at one another. The way their eyes focused solely and adoringly on each other. The way sexual tension hung heavily in the air and their stomachs fluttered each time they simply brushed hands across the table, or when, after kicking off her sandals, she'd let her foot travel up the leg of his jeans, her toes lightly brushing against his shin. The way in which his fingertips softly stroked the top and side of her foot when she'd placed it in his lap. It was in the soft, lingering and meaningful kisses that they had shared.

And it was the fact that while they were both nervous and terrified, they had officially embarked on starting a life together.

An hour and a half following their early dinner, Danny stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching his girlfriend as she busied herself at the sink. Girlfriend. It felt so strange to think of Samantha in that way. While there'd always been a physical connection between them from her first day at the lab (he would have had to have been a complete moron to not have noticed someone like her), she'd always been one of his best friends. One of the guys almost. She hung out at the bars with him and Flack. Doing shots of tequila mixed with JD with them and sharing their pitchers of beer. Shooting pool and playing darts with them. Through the laughs and good natured teasing, the three of them had confided things in each other that even their families didn't know. They were comfortable and at ease with one another.

It was the first time, since Aiden, that he and Flack had so willingly allowed a woman to enter into the fold. Aiden had been outgoing and boisterous and a hell of a lot of fun. She had taken her fair share of ribbing from the guys, but hadn't been afraid to knock them down a peg or two. She had been a stunningly beautiful, alluring woman. Who was a hundred percent off limits. Aiden didn't date or even fool around with anyone she worked with. She had strict personal rules that she followed and never once wavered from. Much to the dismay of both Danny and Flack who'd nearly tripped over themselves attempting to get her 'into' them.

Like Aiden, Sam had come to the lab with the same moral standards. She wasn't going to hook up with a co-worker. Or a cop for that matter. She had made that very clear when Flack tossed out his offer of Irish Coffee. She'd seen right through it and him. Catching on immediately that his Irish Coffee was actually code language for something else. Danny had been there, observing from several feet away in the employee parking lot as Flack attempted to make his move on her. They'd been returning from questioning a suspect in the Bronx and while Danny had offered to stay behind and gather their things from the Avalanche, he'd watched as Flack had hurried to catch up to Sam as she headed for the elevators. And then had bit back hysterics as his best friend had sprung the whole Irish coffee line on her. He'd been expecting the new girl to fall for it. Danny had never, ever seen a woman turn Flack down.

Until that day. She'd been nice about it. She had flashed that dazzling smile, her golden brown eyes sparkling up at the man that towered over her by a whole foot, then had stood on her tiptoes and taken the lapels of his jacket in both her hands.

* * *

"_Look Don…" she said, her tone serious but gentle. "You're a really, really nice guy. And you're extremely attractive. And any girl would be happy to go out with you. But…"_

"_But?" Flack asked. "How can there be a but?"_

"_Because there just is," Sam replied. "I don't date co-workers. Or mess around with them. I just don't do it. Sorry."_

"_But we're not exactly co-workers!" Flack argued, as she let go of his jacket and turned on her heel and continued on her way to the elevator. "I mean, we are. But you're employed by Mac and I'm employed by homicide and I just work in conjuncture with the lab."_

_She turned and grinned at him as she walked backwards. "You don't take no for an answer, do you." It was more a statement then a question._

_Flack returned the grin with one of his own and shook his head. "It's just coffee," he said. "I'm not asking you to marry me or anything."_

"_I don't do coffee," she responded._

"_Okay…so how about tea? A latte? A café mocha? Hot chocolate?"_

"_Nice try, blue eyes. Maybe if it was another place, another time. But it's not. So…"_

"_You'll change your mind!" Flack called out to her, oozing confidence despite the fact he was genuinely hurt and surprised at being shot down._

_She laughed and shook her head and turned her back to him. "You're an arrogant shit, Donald Flack Jr," she yelled._

_Danny, who'd been trying so hard to control his hysterics as he stalled at the back of the SUV, could no longer hold his laughter in when his best friend appeared beside him, shaking his head, a dejected look on his face._

"_What?" Flack asked irritably. _

"_Nice try blue eyes," Danny shook his head and wiped amused tears from his eyes. "Talk about crashing and burning."_

"_She's just playing hard to get," Flack reasoned. "She'll come around. I'll give her a week or two and ask again. Maybe I'll even wear her down a bit. Have flowers delivered to her desk, show up with lunch. Conveniently end up taking her out to dinner while we're working a case."_

"_You're pathetic," Danny declared and slammed the tailgate of the SUV closed. "Girl has turned you down how many times now?"_

_Flack shrugged. "I don't know…couple times I guess."_

"_Four," Danny told him matter of factly. "She's shot you down four times and yet you still keep persisting. Move on already. Accept the fact that she isn't into you and just turn your attention elsewhere. What's so special about her that you just can't stop making a jack ass out of yourself?"_

"_What's so special about Monroe that you'd actually keep going after her even though she stood you up? What was so special about her that you lew your ass all the way to Montana to sit in a court room and hold her hand? What's so special about her that no matter how many times she pushes you away and shuts you out, you can't stay away from her?"_

"_I don't know…there's just something about her, I guess. She just has this way about her that captured me from the first moment I looked at her. I can't explain it. I just know that I feel it."_

"_And I just know that I feel it about Samantha. I've never met anyone like her. And I just think that…" he sighed heavily. "I don't think…I think if she'd just give me a chance…give us a chance…that me and her could have something amazing."_

_Danny blinked and stared at his best friend. Taken back by the sincerity oozing out of Flack's blue eyes and the tenderness in which he spoke. And then he'd smirked and burst into laughter once again._

_A slow grin spread across Flack's face and he shook his head and clapped Danny on the shoulder as they headed towards the elevators side by side._

"_We are pathetic bastards," the detective declared._

* * *

Danny could remember that moment in the underground garage as if it were yesterday. He could still hear Flack's voice and see that boyish, dimply grin that always seemed so out of place on his best friend. The aggressive and assertive and surly homicide detective who smirked and snarled and frowned far more than he smiled. Danny had been one of the fortunate ones to witness Flack's softer side. Not that the man himself had been soft. Far from it. He would have kicked anyone's ass that even suggested he was. But Flack had proven that he wasn't just capable of roughing up suspects or tossing out nasty comments or dolling out the sarcasm. He wasn't just a gun and a badge and brawn. He had been capable of extreme tenderness and love towards the woman who had, thanks to his unwavering persistence, eventually became his wife. He'd transformed from a carefree bachelor into a devoted and adoring husband.

And it was shame he hadn't been given longer to relish his new roles. Or that he hadn't had the chance to ever see the baby that he had been so excited about. He'd only known for less then a week, but in that time he'd made a lifetime of plans. He'd talked about taking a son fishing and camping and teaching him how to skate and play hockey and throw a football. He talked about having a daughter that would be as beautiful as her mother and would have her old man wrapped tightly around her baby finger from day one. A little Princess that he'd keep all the boys away from. Boy or girl, it hadn't mattered to Flack. He had gotten the one thing that he wanted more then anything else. A chance to be a father. To prove to himself that he was capable of being a better man and a better dad than his old man had ever been. Danny could still see that almost goofy grin that had crossed Flack's face when he was asked if he was excited about having a baby. He was…proud. There was no other word to describe the look on Flack's face. He was proud of what he had done. Of what he had helped to create.

And you should be proud, Danny thought, emotion choking him as he stood in that kitchen doorway and watched Samantha as she bent down in front of the swing and talked to her son. Telling him what a big boy he was getting to be. How he was so big and so handsome. Just like his daddy.

You should be proud, Flack. And I hope you are. I hope you're watching right now and realizing what an amazing job you did. That you created a beautiful, healthy boy and that your wife is doing such an incredible job with him. You should be proud of her for how far she's come despite all the cards she's been dealt.

And you should be happy for her. No matter what she chooses to do.

Danny cleared his throat noisily, composing himself as he entered the kitchen. "What is it with the girls in my life and their country music?" he asked, buttoning a pale yellow long sleeve shirt over his wife beater.

"Country music has emotion to it," Sam replied, smiling at him before turning back to the sink. "The songs tell stories. You can relate to them. There's always something in the lyrics that you have lived through and dealt with. Not to mention you can actually make out what the artist is singing. There's no yelling or shrieking. No calling women bitches and hoes or talking about blunts and forties or popping a cap in someone's ass. I mean, who's actually done that?"

"You mean other then me and you?" he asked, as he snaked his arms around her slender waist from behind. "And other then Flack, Mac, Stella…"

"Okay…so other than cops," Sam laughed. "Regular, normal people. Country music is about real life. You've been through the stuff they're talking about."

"Yeah? How many times have you had to sleep in your pick up truck 'cause your wife left you and took your loyal hound dog with her?"

She laughed even harder at that. "I think you're definition of country music is slightly warped, Daniel."

He grinned and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm just playing with ya, Brooklyn. I know how much you love your Kenny and your Keith."

"I'll have you know that country music isn't the only music I like."

"I know…you also like what's her name? Beyonce. And that Ne-Yo guy."

"I like a whole bunch of music," she said. "I mean, what's that band you were playing for me in the car yesterday? That CD that you ordered on line?"

"Ceesau," Danny told her. "They've got a post-grunge, Indie rock, Nirvana-esque thing going on with them. Why? You liked them?"

"They're alright. I like the lead singer. He' cute. Isn't he on some crime show on CBS?"

"I think so. I don't know. I don't watch that unrealistic, poorly written shit."

"Oh I forgot. You'd rather watch the Pulitzer winning writers of South Park and the Simpsons."

"Smart ass," he said with a grin and kissed her cheek.

She smiled, and then shivered and felt herself flush as he nuzzled the sensitive spot below her ear with her nose. She would have been lying to herself if she said she didn't want him. If she didn't want to feel his hands and his lips and tongue caressing and toying with her quivering body. If she didn't want to experience that level of intense intimacy with him. If she didn't want to give herself completely to him and cling to him and kiss him as he did the same in return. And she was fooling herself if she didn't admit she didn't long to be pressed up against him in the aftermath. Sweat travelling down their bodies and their limbs entwined. Their hearts pounding in unison and the hair on his chest tickling her bare breasts. Danny was an attractive, sexy man. Both in looks and personality. He possessed an outward confidence that successfully masked that wounded little boy quality he had about him. He had suffered and survived emotional torment time and time again and hid his pain and his insecurities well. But it was when he opened up to her, laid his emotions and his agony on the table, that she felt the closest to him.

And she was worried about hurting him. He made no attempt to disguise how he felt about her or what he wanted. And she was concerned that once they took that next step, that she'd discover it hadn't been him that she wanted. That it had been the act of sex that she'd been craving. That she had needed to fill that empty pit in her heart and stomach with someone. Anyone. She wanted to make sure it was Danny that she wanted. That she was truly falling in love with him and not with the idea of falling in love.

It was confusing. And scary. But being with him felt so good. His kisses and his touches awakened a part of her that she had thought was long dead.

Now if only the nagging guilt of who he was and what he had meant to both her deceased husband and dead best friend would begin to ease up on her a little.

Her heart sped up and goose bumps took over her body as his fingertips gently pushed loose tendrils of hair away from the back of her neck. Her eyes closed, her chin dropped to her chest and a soft sigh emitting from her lips as his warm, moist lips made contact with her skin.

"You got a sunburn," Danny commented, as he pressed feathery kisses across her shoulder.

"I burn easily 'cause I'm so pale," she reasoned, then wanted to kick her own ass for sounding so lame. She was a thirty-five year old woman. Yet every time he touched her she turned into a flustered and horny high schooler.

"Brings out all your freckles," he said, and trailed a fingertip along the edge of the strap of her tank top. Her skin, although bright red from too much sun, was silky and felt and tasted so good. And the more he touched her, the more he essentially tortured himself. Sex wasn't even on the radar at the moment. While he wanted it -with her- desperately, he knew that she wasn't prepared for that step. He knew she might not be for a long time. He accepted that, even though he didn't know if he could cope with it. "What was it Flack called them again?" he asked.

"Angel kisses," Sam replied, smiling in recollection. "He could be a sappy bastard when he wanted to be."

"I don't think it was a much sap as it was being wildly, crazily in love with you," Danny told her.

"You're starting to get just as sappy," Sam teased, and removing her hand from the water, flicked soap over her shoulder at him. "Danny Messer and his inner romantic."

"Shhh…don't go saying that too loud. That stays between me and you, a'right? People find out about that side of me and I'll never live it down. I've got a reputation to uphold."

"And what reputation would that be?" she asked.

"I don't know…how about that I'm a high tech geek who has a penchant for committing felonies?"

She snorted at that. "Okay, Gerrard…you should have beat his ass into the middle of next week for saying that to you. I remember standing in the doorway with Donnie and hearing you say, 'How about we step outside grandpa and I'll show you how much of a geek I am?'. I was about ready to cheer you on and tell you to beat his ass and then Donnie put his hand over my mouth to shut me up."

"You would have just gotten yourself into shit. It was only your second case. You didn't need to be facing the wrath of Gerrard yet. Flack was just protecting you. Although I think it would have been kinda cool if both me and you took the boots to the old man."

"He was a pompous ass," Sam declared. "He was always on Donnie's ass about something. Donnie could never do anything right it seemed. And he was always so worried about proving himself to Gerrard and Sinclair and his father. It was like an obsession with him and I dared to even comment on it he…" she sighed heavily. "It was just really important to him to live up to all the expectations," she said. "And he did. He shattered them in fact. But it was this on going thing. Nothing was ever enough. He pushed himself and pushed himself until he…"

"Go on," Danny urged gently when she abruptly stopped talking.

"It's not important," she said quietly. "It doesn't matter anymore. He just tried really hard and I was really proud of him for everything that he achieved. I just wished that sometimes…I don't know. I guess I wished that the time would come when he wouldn't do that to himself anymore. That he would just see that he didn't have to prove himself to the people that mattered most. He was so worried about what Gerrard and Sinclair and his father thought about him that he couldn't….he couldn't get past that and no matter how many times I tried to tell him that he shouldn't do that to himself, that he didn't need to do it, he just…"

Danny waited patiently and quietly, knowing there was more she wanted to say. That she needed to say. But was struggling to.

"He got angry. Very angry. And it made me the enemy. Like I didn't want him climbing the ladder or making himself better. When all I was trying to do was protect him from getting hurt."

"And instead you got hurt," Danny concluded.

"I guess…" she sighed. "I mean, he was never abusive or anything," she quickly said, realizing that her confession of her husband's personal shortcomings had painted him in an extremely bad light. "He never hit me or anything. He never would have done that. Donnie wasn't that type of person. But he had a temper. You know that."

Danny nodded.

"And sometimes his temper…he could be really mean. Verbally. Half the time he didn't even realize what he was saying until the words were already out and he couldn't take them back. And the angrier and nastier he got, the more mean I became. And I hated us being that way. I hated when we did that to each other. Because I was always so worried I'd say something and never get the chance to take it back. To say I was sorry. And then one day he walked out of the house and he…" she paused, biting her bottom lip as emotion tugged at her. "…and he never came back."

"Sammie…" Danny laid his hands on her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the back of her head. "You have to remember that Don didn't leave the house under bad circumstances. You two weren't fighting. By your own words you'd had an amazing morning with him. He walked out of here and went to the airport and stepped on that plane knowing that you loved him. Knowing that he had an incredible woman waiting back home for him. That you guys were having a baby. And he died with a clear conscience. He hadn't left you without telling you that he loved you. And I know, without hesitation, that you and his baby were on his mind in those final moments. So don't ever doubt in your mind how he felt about you. Or if he knew how you felt about him."

"I just…I don't want to talk about this anymore. I can't talk about him anymore."

Danny nodded in understanding. "You don't have to," he assured her and resting his chin on her shoulder, pecked her cheek. "No one is making you talk about anything, okay? But I want you to know that if you ever do want to talk about stuff, whether it be things that happened between you and Don or how sad you're feeling…"

"It's weird," she declared.

"What is, babe?"

She wiped tears from her cheek with her shoulder. "Talking about Don with you."

He frowned. "Why's it weird? I knew him for years. He was my best friend."

"Which is why it's so weird," she said. "Because you were his best friend. The two of you were close. Like brothers. And me standing here telling you stuff about our marriage and about him, stuff that only husband and wives know about each other, it just seems…wrong. It seems wrong. Because I don't want you thinking he was a bad person. Because he wasn't. He was a great husband and he…and I loved him and I miss him."

"I know you do. I wouldn't expect you not to love him and miss him still. You don't expect me to not love Linds and miss her still."

"Of course not," Sam scoffed. "She was an important part of your life. She was going to be your wife. You have every right to miss her and love her."

"Just like you have every right to miss and love Flack. And just like me and you have every right to have something with each other. No one is judging anyone here. No one is perfect, Sammie. You and Flack had your issues and trust me, Linds and I definitely had ours. We're all human. And if you ever feel the need to tell me things, well I'm not going to think anyone is a bad person. Okay? You can talk to me. About anything. A'right?"

She nodded and sniffled noisily. Finally finished with her aggressive scrubbing of the broiling pan, she dropped it into the rinse water and unplugged the side of the sink with the soap and dirty water in it. Reaching for a dish towel sitting on the counter beside her, she dried her hands and turned to face him.

"A'right…" he said, and ran a gentle hand over her face and hair. "You need me to do anything else before I take off?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I think we're okay. DJ's happy with his swing and I'm happy I can now see where I'm going down in the basement. Thank you. For doing all of that."

"No problem. I figure I use up all of your hot water and eat all of your food, I might as well pay my way by doing things for you," he chided.

"Oh…I can think of a few things you can do for me to pay your way," Sam told him, then blushed when she realized what she had just said. Embarrassed that she had spoken such brazen words when she was fighting so hard to keep her self control.

Danny grinned broadly. "Oh don't worry," he said, and laying his hands on her hips, drew his bottom lip between his teeth as he eyed her appreciatively from head to toe. "When the time is right, I plan on earning my keep around here."

Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson and she backed away from him, flustered under his heavy stare and the sexual innuendo that not hung between them. Save for her husband, she had never had a man so openly desire her before. With Flack, she had quickly and easily -once she'd actually put her fears and doubts aside and actually dove into a relationship with him- not only fallen head over heels in love with him, but tumbled into bed with him. She had held out for as long as humanly possible, until one night, following weeks of heavy make out sessions and cold showers, she just couldn't take it anymore. And now the same thing was happening all over again. And the more she fought it, the more she wanted it.

"Where you goin'?" Danny asked, amused by her embarrassment. He pulled her into him and circled her waist with his arms and held her tightly against him. "Don't get like that," he said, his blue eyes penetrating deep into her soul. "No reason to get like that around me. Never around me. Don't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous," she argued feebly. "I'm just…I don't know…I'm scared."

"Of what?" he asked.

"This…us…what we both know is coming quicker then we're actually prepared for."

"You're talking in riddles, Brooklyn. I'm a simple guy. I need things literally spelt out for me.'

Sam sighed and closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his shoulder. "This, Danny. Us. What is happening between us. What is going to happen between us."

"Sex you mean?"

She nodded.

"What are you so scared about?" he asked, running a hand up her back to the nape of her neck and then onto the back of her head. "What scares you about it?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I just don't know. I just know that I'm scared of it. I'm not scared of you, but I'm scared of it. I'm thirty-five years old. I shouldn't be afraid of being intimate with someone. It's not like I'm a virgin or anything. But something just terrifies me about it."

"I'm not going to hurt you if that's what it is," he said, stroking her hair. "I'm not going to fuck you and take off of that's what's freaking you out."

"It's not that," she assured him. "I'm not worried about that. I know that you'd never do that to me. Besides, if you did, I'd hunt you down and kill you."

He chuckled at that.

"It's just…sex is powerful. It's intense and emotional and the last time I was with someone in that way was a year ago. Three hundred and sixty six days to be exact. Donnie was the last man I was with and I'd been with him intimately nearly every night for two and a half years. And now all of a sudden you're here and wanting you as bad as I do…it's scary. Because it means I'm letting my guard down and opening my heart and my soul to you, Danny. And I never thought I'd ever feel that way about someone again."

"But you do?" he asked. "Feel that way?"

She nodded and raised her head from his shoulder and smiled up at him. "Do you?" she inquired.

"I've taken three cold showers today alone. What does that tell you?"

She giggled slightly and he covered her mouth with his in a slow, soft kiss.

"It doesn't have to happen until you're ready," Danny told her. "We went through this this morning, Sammie. I told you that we were taking this at your pace. You're in charge here. I don't want you thinking or feeling that you're being pressured into it. Okay?"

"Okay…" she said.

Twisting her ponytail around his hand as she gripped tightly onto the front of his shirt, he captured her lips once again with his. What he wouldn't have given to stay there all evening with her. Feeling the touch of her hands and tasting her mouth. Unfortunately, duty called in the form of the night shift. Much to his dismay.

"I…have…to…get…going…." he told her in between kisses.

"Then…go…" she said, smiling against his lips.

"You're…making…it…really…really hard…" he informed her, and then forced himself to break away from her. "How you expect me to be able to concentrate at work kissing me like that?"

She shrugged and smiled innocently.

"You don't believe in making things easy do ya?" he teased. "You really do like torturing us guys."

"Just a little bit," she said, holding her forefinger and thumb half an inch apart.

"At least it's the good kind of torture," Danny declared, and moved to the fridge, snagging his wallet and car keys from the top of it. "I was thinking, seeing as I'm stopping off at home first to get what I need for work, I'll toss a change of clothes into a bag. Come right here when my shift is done. If that's alright with you."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Sam asked, as she went to the swing and turning it off, unbuckled DJ and lifted him into her arms.

"I don't know….maybe you were thinking of having your other boyfriend over."

"I only have one boyfriend," she said. And then held her smiling son out at arms length. "Well two…if you count the cheeky monkey here."

"Ask me, you're both cheeky monkies," Danny told her, and placed a kiss to her cheek before taking the baby from her. "Uncle D's gotta take off for a little while, buddy," he said to DJ, as he laid his godson along his arm. "You be good. Take care of your mom. You're in charge, alright? You keep her safe and sound and out of trouble, you hear me?"

The baby smiled and gurgled noisily.

"Now don't go getting mouthy with me," Danny said. "Just 'cause you're sleeping through the night now doesn't mean you get the right to be a smart butt, okay? And I'm telling you right now, you get too big for your britches when you're sixteen and I won't think twice about tanning your behind. Just 'cause your cute doesn't mean you can be a little shit."

"You just know he's going to have an attitude," Sam sighed, as she followed Danny out of the kitchen and through the living room to the front foyer. "He's going to be a sarcastic, mouthy, assertive brat."

"In other words he's going to be just like you," Danny teased.

She rolled her eyes and unlocked the front door and pulled it open. They stepped out onto the front porch, where he handed her the baby.

"You be good," he told his godson once more, and took hold of one of the baby's wrist. "Give me a high five…" he smacked his palm lightly against DJ's. "Down low…to the side…."

Sam grinned, watching the exchange taking place.

"A'right…don't be givin' your mom a hard time," Danny ordered and pressed his lips to the baby's head. "And you be good too," he said, and kissed Samantha lightly. "Call if you need anything."

"I will," she promised. "Be safe okay?"

"I will," he assured her and pecked her cheek. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Get some sleep, okay?"

She nodded and watched as he headed down the front steps and journeyed to the SUV parked in the driveway. Suddenly felt with the utmost feeling of terror and anxiety as déjà vu swept through her. Standing on the porch, watching as the man in her life walked away from her, towards that same vehicle that had been situated in the exact same place a year ago. She fought back the fear and the dread. The irrational thoughts of how the last person who'd walked away from her and gotten into that SUV never came back.

"Danny!" she called to him.

He looked towards the front of the house, his key in the lock of the driver's side door.

"I…I just wanted to tell you that…that I l…" she bit her lip, scared to let the word escape from her mouth. "I'll see you get back."

He gave a soft smile and unlocked his door. "You don't have to say it Sammie," he said. "It's okay. Just know that…I don't know….just let me say me too, okay?"

She beamed and nodded.

"I'll call you later," he told her and climbed in behind the wheel of the SUV.

She gave a small wave, then held up one of DJ's tiny hands and waved it in Danny's direction.

He grinned at the sight and started up the ignition. Switching the SUV into reverse, he took one last, long look at the two of them standing there on the front porch. Neither nervous or terrified by the realization that they were quickly becoming the most important people in his life.

* * *

Hawkes, a take out cup of steaming black coffee at his feet as he worked on rolling up the sleeves on his burgundy dress shirt, glanced up from where he sat on a bench in front of his open locker as the door to the change room swung open. He opened his mouth to offer a greeting to Danny as he came strolling in. But all words escaped him and a frown took over his lips as Hawkes noticed that Danny, for the first time in nearly two years, had his glasses perched upon his face.

"What's up, Doc?" Danny asked, ignoring the other man's furrowed brow and curious eyes as Danny passed by him on the way to his own locker three doors away.

"Not much…" Hawkes replied, his head swivelling to the right as he watched his colleague. "What's up with you?" he asked.

"What you mean?" Danny inquired, as he punched the security code into the keypad on the locker, waiting for a dull click before swinging the door open.

"I mean what is up with you and the glasses," Hawkes replied. "You haven't worn them in nearly two years."

"Contacts were getting on my nerves," Danny told him, as he tossed his back pack into his locker. "Started bugging my eyes, drying them out. So I scoured my apartment this afternoon and found my glasses. I'm resurrecting the old Danny Messer."

"Why?" Hawkes asked.

"Why not?" Danny countered. "They're just glasses. No big deal."

Hawkes stared at him pointedly.

"What?" Danny asked. "What? What is it you're trying to ask me?"

"I'm just trying to get to the bottom of the resurrgence of the glasses."

"My girl likes them, okay?" Danny blurted out. "My girl like me in my glasses so I went looking for them. I found them and now I'm wearing them. What's the issue?"

"No issue…except for the fact that you just let it slip you have a girl."

Danny sighed heavily and grabbed his badge off the top shelf of his locker and clipped it to the waist of his jeans. "Yeah…I have a girl…" he said and closed his locker. "What's wrong with it?" he asked, as he headed for the door.

"Nothing's wrong with it," Hawkes assured him, as he scooped up his coffee and hurried after his partner. "I'm just a little surprised."

"I'm not allowed to have a girl?" Danny asked, as he pulled the door to the locker room open and stepped out into the hall. "I'm not suppose to ever go on with my life?"

"I never said that," Hawkes told him. "Don't get so defensive."

"I'm not defensive," Danny argued. "I'm…slightly guarded, a'right?"

"That's cool…that's cool. But you can't just drop news like that on someone. You can't just tell me you have a girlfriend and not expect me to ask questions."

Danny sighed heavily and shook his head. "What's there to know? I have a girlfriend. I'm seeing someone. That's the deal right there."

"Well how did the two of you meet?" Hawkes asked. "How long has this been going on for?"

"It's just a new thing. Brand new. We met…" Danny paused, unsure of what to say next. "Through a friend. We met through a friend."

"Someone I know?"

"Maybe….what's the big deal? It's a new relationship. We're testing the waters. Why does it matter how we met?"

"I'm just curious," Hawkes told him. "What does she do for a living?"

"She's self employed," Danny responded.

"How old is she?"

"Same age as me. What is this? Twenty questions? An interrogation. Fuck…"

"Well does she have a name?" Hawkes inquired.

"She does. First and last. And that's all you're getting out of me. Let me just…let me and her get our feet wet before I bear my soul to ya about it, okay?"

Hawkes held his hands up in surrender. The two men lapsed into a comfortable silence as they continued their journey towards Mac's office.

"Is she cute?" Hawkes asked suddenly.

"Doc…come on…."

"That's my last question, I swear. Is she cute or what?"

Danny grinned. "Or what," he said. "She's hot. Smoking hot in fact. And before you ask, no I don't have a picture of her and no I'm not describing her. When the time is right, you'll meet her. And the time is not right. Now take it easy and lay off, okay?"

"Okay…okay….if it means anything, I'm happy for you, Danny. And I hope you're happy."

"Thank you. And I am. Happy. Disgustingly happy. I just hope she is too."

"Well it's up to you to make sure of that," Hawkes told him.

"I'm going to try my best. It's what she deserves. The best and I…." Danny's voice trailed off as he caught sight off the lights in Samantha and Lindsay's shared office blazing brightly and movement coming from inside. Mac had never even let the temps work in there, and the sight of human life coming from within startled him.

"And you what?" Hawkes asked, then frowned as Danny abruptly stopped walking and doubled back and headed for Lindsay's old office. "Danny….what…?"

Danny paused in the doorway, watching as a complete stranger stood behind Lindsay's desk an open cardboard box in front of him. He was no older then Danny. About the same height, but powerfully built. He had thick neck and a braod chest and his light blue dress shirt was tight around his biceps. He wore his hair in a buzz cut and had soulful dark eyes as he studied a photo, nestled in a silver frame, that he held in his strong hands. The picture, taken of Lindsay and Samantha at the department Christmas party two years before, had been sitting, untouched and collecting a dust, on that desk for a year now.

"Can I help you?" Danny asked, irritated at the sight of someone touching Lindsay's personal effects.

"Howdy…" the other man greeted, giving a warm smile as he sat the photo back down on the desk and journeyed to the door with his hand outstretched. "You must be Danny. I've heard a lot about you. From Detective Taylor and Doctor Hawkes."

"You have, have you," Danny stared at the hand offered to him before shaking it. "And you would be?" he asked coolly.

"Nick," the newcomer replied. "Nick Stokes."

* * *

**Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you and thank you for all of your support and great feedback! Please R and R folks!**


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I AM JUST BORROWING THEM FOR A LITTLE WHILE AND HAVING FUN WITH THEM!**

**A/N: **OKAY, I AM TRYING TO MAKE THIS AS FRIENDLY AS POSSIBLE, SO PLEASE, PLEASE BEAR WITH ME. I KNOW THAT THERE'S A LOT OF DL FANS OUT THERE (I'M ONE OF THEM) BUT THERE'S **NO RULE **AS FAR AS I KNOW THAT SAYS DANNY CAN'T BE WITH ANYONE ELSE. WE ALL KNOW HOW HAPPY THEY ARE, HOW IN LOVE THEY ARE ETC…BUT WE ALSO KNOW THEY'RE NOT REAL PEOPLE, RIGHT? THAT THEY'RE ACTORS PLAYING ROLES? I AM JUST WRITING FOR FUN. IF YOU'RE NOT A FAN OF OC STORIES OR MY STORIES IN GENERAL, THEN JUST STAY AWAY. PLEASE DO NOT PUBLICALLY SLAM ME OR MY WORK AND ESPECIALLY **MY READERS. **JUST DON'T READ. I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND IF IT'S NOT YOUR THING AND I RESPECT THAT.

THANKS FOR LISTENING FOLKS! I NEEDED TO GET THAT OFF MY CHEST!

**ONCE AGAIN, ANYTHING IN ITALICS IS A FLASHBACK.**

* * *

**Memories awakened**

"Who Is Gonna Save You  
When I'm Gone?  
Who'll watch Over You?  
Who Will Give You Strength  
When You're Not Strong?  
Who'll Watch Over You  
When I've Gone Away?

Snow Is On The Ground  
Winters Come  
You Long To Hear My Voice  
But I'm Long Gone."  
-Watch Over You, Alter Bridge

* * *

"I guess it's move in day, huh?" Danny commented, as he nodded in the direction of the cardboard box parked on Lindsay's empty desk.

All of her personal effects had long been packed up and either stored away at Danny's apartment, given away to Stella and Sam, or shipped to her folks in Montana. He hadn't had the heart however, three months following her death, to remove that photograph that Lindsay had treasured. It had been taken three Christmases ago. A year after Samantha Ross had come to work at the New York City crime lab and slipped into all of their lives so smoothly and effortlessly. And only four short months into the feisty little Brooklyn girl's relationship with the big, bad homicide detective. That night had definitely been one for the memory books. After not seeing Sam and Flack for three days -the couple had taken some time off and gone to Atlantic City for a little R and R (more like a lot of T and A, Danny had teased his best friend)- and had met up with Danny and Lindsay at the Waldorf Astoria for the department's annual holiday party.

It was the standard formal affair. Male members of the department wore their dress blues while their dates wore formal gowns. Lindsay had chosen a stunning emerald green, empire waist number with jewelled spaghetti straps and a matching chiffon wrap. Danny had taken one look at her and nearly cancelled the entire night. He had never seen her looking as beautiful as that night. She'd walked out into the living room where he had been pacing and muttering curses under his breath. Bitching and moaning about how long it was taking her to get ready and how late they were going to be if she didn't haul ass. He'd had his mouth open to ask what the hell had taken her so long, and all words had evaporated into thin air. He had been in complete and utter awe of how amazing she had looked. And had nearly made them even later but showing her how incredible he found her.

Samantha had worn a halter style shimmering gold dress that had been slit to the thigh and cut dangerously low in the back. Giving anyone checking out her rear view a tiny peek at that top edge of that colourful and intricate tattoo that graced the small of her back and spread from hip to hip. Her hair had been gathered and pushed up into an elegant upsweep and her face had possessed a glow that neither Danny or Lindsay had ever seen on her before. In fact, both her and Flack seemed to have an aura about them. An impenetrable happiness and a sense of peace and wholeness surrounding them. At first, they'd wondered if Flack had managed to knock her up in record time and the glow was nothing more then them being giddy parents to be. Flack had looked at Danny as if he'd grown another head when the latter had had the gall to even ask if Samantha was pregnant.

"_Fort Knox, Messer," Flack said. "We're like Fort Knox. Safe sex or no sex. Simple as that."_

"_So what's up with this shit eating grin you're walking around with?" Danny asked, as the two men waited at the busy cash bar to order some drinks and their girls admired each other's outfits and discussed Sam's trip to AC._

"_What are you talking about?" Flack inquired, the smirk tugging at his lips giving away the fact that he knew exactly what his best friend was getting at._

"_That goofy grin you've got going on," Danny told him. "And the way you can't take your eyes off of Brooklyn. Like you're worried she's going to haul ass on out of here and leave you high and dry or something."_

_Flack shrugged. "I'm just wondering how a shmuck like me got so lucky to nail someone like her. Is it wrong that I want to stand here and admire my future wife?"_

_Danny blinked. Startled by the last three words that had just come stumbling out of his best friend's mouth. My future wife? Did Flack honestly say that? Was he for real? Was this the same Donald Flack Junior that for years has been extremely proud of his self proclaimed bachelor for life status? Who looked upon co-workers and family members with pity every time one of them got engaged or married or announced that their wives or girlfriends were having babies? Flack had vowed a long time ago -while he and Danny were just uniforms- that he was never going to make the mistake of saddling himself down for the rest of his life. And that he was never, ever going to grace the world with Flack offspring for the sheer fact he was terrified of being a major screw up, parenting wise, as his old man. Danny even recalled the time just a short year before, that he and Flack had stood at a construction site, guessing the fate of Jim Morrison, as the stock broker lay dead in the middle of all the chaos and noise as workers continued their daily business around them. When Danny had noticed, and asked why, that someone had messed up fresh concrete, Flack had scoffed a little and made a comment that at least it wasn't 'two people's initials with a heart around it who are going to wake up and kill each other when they realize they're married." _

_And now here Flack was. With his eyes and face glowing with pure, unabashed pride as he looked over Danny's shoulder and to where the love of his life was standing with her best friend._

"_Your future wife?" Danny asked. "What…?"_

_Before anymore words could escape from his mouth, Danny and Flack's attention were captured by Lindsay letting out and ear piercing shriek that could be heard clear over the loud conversations taking place between the party goers that mingled in the banquet hall, and the DJ that was busy entertaining the crowd with music that ranged from adult contemporary to hip hop and everything and anything in between. Over a hundred pairs of eyes, including those that belonged to the two men that loved those girls more than life itself, all focused in on Lindsay Monroe jumping up and down and squealing like a little kid on Christmas morning who'd just discovered Santa had left the one present they'd been begging for all year long. Even Samantha looked slightly embarrassed by her best friend's behaviour, but that huge smile never left her face once as Lindsay alternated between hugging her and grasping for her hand. Even Danny could see from where he stood, that diamond sparkling brilliantly. _

"_You didn't," Danny said._

_Flack gave a bashful grin. "I did," he admitted._

And he'd done it in a low key, yet undeniably romantic way. After an entire morning and afternoon of hanging out in their hotel room -Danny had known exactly what their version of hanging out entailed, and that it most likely disturbed anyone in rooms surrounding them- they'd finally managed to pull themselves out of bed and get washed up and dressed for dinner. Sam had informed Flack even before they'd left New York City and even on the drive to AC, that she expected romance the entire three days. She wanted dinners that included fine wine and candles and menus written in a foreign language neither of them spoke and they'd need an interpreter just to order something. She wanted something far more then their usual dates of dinner at a sports bar or pub followed by a movie or a sporting event. She wanted something that was a far cry from ordering in take out and eating on the couch while they watched movies in their sweats.

From what Flack had told him, he'd ignored Sam's comments and done little more then nod and assure her that everything was going to be perfect. That he had everything under control and she was going to have a great time. Guaranteed. And that second day there, as she spent an hour in the bathroom following their shower, doing her hair and her makeup, Flack was in the next room quietly getting dressed and going about his business. Not once had he'd let it slip to her, or anyone back home for that matter, that he'd been in possessing of that engagement ring and had been concocting a plan on how to propose for nearly two and a half months. When he'd first bought the ring -he'd said it was a spur of the moment thing- he'd held off on actually asking her. He knew that he was in love with her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but at the same time he was terrified that it was too soon to take that serious of a step. That she would tell him she just wasn't ready for that sort of thing and that didn't want to get married. Ever. So he set that ring in the lock box in his desk at work and never spoke a single word about it to anyone. Although he had to fight not to give it to her each time they got into an argument or each time the mood struck to just pull up his big boy pants and do it.

Two and a half months later he decided that it was time. That there was going to be no more holding back. So he secretly went to Mac and arranged for her to have the same three day weekend off as him. He made use of the internet and made hotel reservations when he really should have been finishing up the towering stack of case files that littered his desk. In the end, he had managed to keep their mini vacation a complete surprise. The night before they were to depart, Sam had arrived home from a long and tedious shift -at that point they were still foolishly going back and forth between each other's places- and found her boyfriend rooting through her dresser drawers and tossing things into a wheelie suitcase that he'd found in the back of her closet and now lay open at the end of the bed and surrounded by various items of clothing. Jeans and cargo pants. Bras and underwear and sweaters and long sleeve tops. Along with three dresses she hadn't had on her back in years and several pairs of shoes. She'd popped off a smart ass, teasing comment about how he could have just asked to borrow stuff if he liked wearing her clothes that much. That he didn't need to thief them.

He'd rolled his eyes and snorted at her absurdity and informed her that he was taking her away for a three days to Atlantic City. And they were leaving THAT night. As soon as things were packed. And when she'd casually asked what he expected her to wear to bed, pointing out he didn't seem to have any pyjamas picked out for her, he'd given that sly smile of his and picked up at Victoria's Secret bag sitting on the dresser that contained something he'd purchased earlier in the day for her.

"This or nothing at all," he'd said in response to her question. "Personally, I prefer the latter."

The second night into their stay, Flack had made his move. While she'd been in the bathroom getting ready for their dinner date, he'd casually gotten dressed in a suit and tie, and then put his plan into action. Attempting to keep a straight face and remain cool and confidant, he'd said nothing to her and tried not to make eye contact with her as she breezed out of the bathroom looking remarkably sexy in a simple black off the shoulder dress. She'd made her way to their rumbled and well used bed and sat down on the edge to affix a pair of sultry, strappy black sandals to her feet. And that was when Flack's well thought out plan finally kicked into high gear.

There, sitting on her pillow had been a tiny, pink candy heart. With a slight frown on her face, she'd plucked the item up between her thumb and forefinger and dropped it into the palm of her hand to inspect it. The words Marry Me staring up at her. Bringing immediate tears to her eyes and causing her hands to tremble from both the emotion of what she knew was about to happen, and the excitement of the reality that it was actually happening.

She'd turn to him to ask what was going on, only to find him already in front of her, his one hand resting lightly on her knee as he crouched down in front of her. The engagement ring already in his free hand. An elegant cushion cut stone set in a band of diamonds.

Danny had never known what had happened after that moment. Neither Flack or Sam had ever told him or Lindsay what had been said from there on out. They were tender, loving and heartfelt words that they kept just between them. But what Danny did know was that his best friends had come back to New York City and engaged.

And that they'd never made it out to dinner that night at the hotel.

"_So you're doing it huh?" Danny asked, after embracing Flack in a congratulatory hug and giving Sam kisses on her cheeks and a warm hug after she and Lindsay finally stopped their giggling and squealing long enough to join them. "You're tradin' in your bachelor status?"_

"_It's time," Flack reasoned with a shrug, then wrapped an arm around his fiancee and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I figure if she's strong enough to put up with my shit for six months, she can handle it for the rest of her life."_

"_She's either strong or just plain damn stupid," Danny teased, giving Sam a playful wink. "So much for the guy that said he'd be single forever. That there wasn't a woman in the world worth all the headaches and crap that came with happily ever after."_

"_Yeah…well I figured if I'm this happy with the last six months of my life, then the next fifty, sixty years will be damn amazing," Flack declared. _

* * *

Danny smiled in fond recollection of those words. And of that night in general. It was amazing that a simple picture could so quickly and effortlessly stir up so many memories.

"….pretty girls, huh?" Nick asked, his voice penetrating into the reverie that Danny had tumbled into it.

"Hmmm?" Danny's head snapped up towards the newcomer.

"I said they're both pretty girls," Nick told him, nodding down at the picture that the other man clasped tightly in his hands.

Danny frowned at the sight of the photo in his possession. And the fact that he was standing behind Lindsay's desk. He hadn't even been aware that he'd even taken the few short steps to the desk, or that he'd even picked up the silver frame.

"Yeah…" he said, and smiled down at the picture. "They are…that one there," he tapped a finger tip to Lindsay's image. "Was my fiancee and the other one is my…"

He had no idea what to say. What to call Samantha. He'd just met Nick Stokes and it wasn't any of the new CSI's business that he and Sam were dating. And with Hawkes lingering in the doorway, even if Danny did feel the need to be forthcoming, that definitely wasn't the time to be doing it.

"My best friend's wife," he finished, as he set the photo back down on the desk. "That picture was taking at the NYPD Christmas party awhile back. They'd just gotten engaged two days before. Now they've got themselves a nice little house in Queens and an amazingly adorable little guy. Well, she does I should say."

Nick frowned.

"He died," Danny told him. "In a plane crash. They both did. My best friend and my fiancee. A year ago yesterday."

Nick nodded slowly. "I remember hearing about that crash when it happened," he said. "It's a damn shame. All those lives lost so suddenly like that. I had read that there were two NYPD cops on board."

"Well it was them," Danny told him, gesturing towards the picture as he stepped away from the desk. "It's been…tough. Real tough."

"I can imagine," Nick sympathized. "Losing a loved one is never easy. And losing them to something so senseless and sudden and tragic and not getting a chance to say goodbye like that…" he shook his head. "I guess that would just make things a hundred times worse."

Danny nodded and cleared his throat noisily. Desperate to rid himself of the emotion that crept up so quickly and suddenly and now choked at him. He had told himself that he was doing great at dealing and moving on. That he had come to the realization that he needed to just accept what had happened and get on with his life. And he'd always prided himself on doing exactly that. But there were times when the memories suffocated him and the grief managed to poke through. And for the first time, he realized it was actually Flack he felt the most sorry for. Because it had been Flack that had left so much behind. A wife, a baby that would never know him. And that was heartbreaking.

"So like I was saying," he gestured towards the box. "Move in day, huh?"

"Yeah…" Nick placed one hand on his hip and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Not like there's much. Just that one box. Everything else I left behind in Vegas. And trust me, that's the best damn place for it."

"Sounds like Sin City was just that to you," Danny commented.

Nick snorted. "You have no idea…first five, six years? Gravy. Last couple of them…" he shook his head and gave a heavy sigh. "…let's just say that here is way better then there and leave it at that."

"I hear ya. There's time I wish I could just haul ass on outta New York, leave all the heartache and crap behind me," Danny said. "Just call it a day and pack up and call it a day, you know? Just say to hell with the Big Apple and head on out to somewhere remote. Find a cabin in the mountains and hide away from the world. There's lot of days I've felt like that."

"But you've never done it," Nick pointed out.

Danny shrugged. "I'm a New Yorker. Born and bred. It's my home. As pissed off as I get with the place sometimes, truth is, I can't imagine myself any place else. This is where I want to be. Where I need to be. And things are finally starting to look up in my life once again. And she…" he caught himself and bit his lip as he contemplated how much to tell the new guy. "The girl in my life? She's who's keeping me put. And sane."

"Amazing how the fairer sex can have that affect on us," Nick mused, a smile curving his lips. "And it's good, you know? That you're able to move on after what happened. Some people never find the strength to do that. And it's good that you're managing to. That you were able to find someone. You're a lucky guy."

Danny nodded. "I am," he agreed. "She's…amazing. She's strong and tenacious. She makes me smile and laugh. Opens my eyes to a lot of things that I'd lost prospective on since the crash. Me and her…" he smiled broadly. "Things are going really, really good."

"That's good," Nick enthused. Then nodded at the picture. "Would your friend's wife want that?" he asked. "Or do you want it?"

"I've got enough memories to last me a life time," Danny told him, but scooped the frame up anyways.

Taking one last look at the beautiful, angelic women smiling up at him in that photo, he leaned across Lindsay's desk and set the picture down on Sam's. From the moment that the two girls had become 'roomies', they'd insistent on moving the furniture around so that their desks were pushed together. They'd always worked face to face for so long. He thought of all the times he'd walked past the open door or he'd wandered in to take about a case, and he'd hear their giggling and their noisy chatter. He'd missed that. Seeing the two of them together. He missed hearing their laughter and being the brunt -and Flack as well- of their jokes. They'd been a dream team of sorts. Small but mighty, the perps always underestimated them. Sam was able to, and did, hand out an ass kicking if need be. And Danny wondered how she'd cope being back at work and not having Lindsay sitting across from her.

"Nice to meet ya, Nick Stokes," Danny said, forcing himself back into the moment. "Mac's got a team meeting in about ten minutes," he added, as he headed for the door.

"I'll be there," Nick responded. "Nice meeting you too, Danny."

The CSI nodded and stepped out into the hallway, where Hawkes had been quietly and patiently waiting for him, checking his messages on his cell phone and sipping his coffee.

"Seems like a nice guy," Hawkes commented, as he fell in step alongside of Danny once again as they continued their journey to Mac's office.

Danny nodded. "He seems decent enough. I guess only time will tell if he fits in around here or not."

"He shouldn't have a problem. I mean, I was welcome with open arms."

"Yeah…but we already knew you from the ME's office," Danny reasoned. "It wasn't like you were new, new."

"What about Lindsay and Samantha? They were welcomed into the fold, too."

"They're insanely attractive women," Danny said. "No normal, red blooded male would have been a shit head to them. If Flack and I had have acted like that, neither of us would have gotten very far with them. We were on our best behaviour so they'd give us a little action."

Hawkes frowned. "That's sexist," he declared.

Danny have a grin and a shrug. He wasn't in the business of making apologies. For anything. "But this Nick guy…I don't know. He seems alright, but…"

"Don't tell me you're thinking of giving him a hard time," Hawkes lamented as they paused in front of the open door leading into Mac's office.

"I won't tell you then," Danny said.

"Come on…he seems like a really nice guy," Hawkes told his partner. "Don't be throwing him to the wolves just yet. I bet you he fits in perfect around here. Becomes part of the 'family' just like that," he snapped his fingers noisily.

Danny gave a small smile. "I guess only time will tell that too," he said, and stepped into Mac's office.

* * *

Two hours after his introduction to Nick Stokes, Danny found himself seeking solace behind the closed door of his office as he waited for test results on a prior case he had decided to revisit. So far it was a slow shift. No new calls and Hawkes personally taking it upon himself to play tour guide to Nick had meant that Danny was left in relative peace and quiet. He had no desire to get cozy with the new guy. He wasn't there to make friends anymore. He had all the friends he needed and had lost the one that had mattered most to him. Flack had been like his brother. They had shared their deepest and darkest secrets. Their joys and their fears. And he hated feeling as if he had to look for a replacement. Truth was, no one could replace Flack. He'd been one of a kind. He'd always been quick to jump to Danny's defence and always offer his support, regardless if Danny, out of pure foolish pride, shoved him away. Flack had been down to earth and unassuming. Sarcastic and loud and funny as hell. And brutally, brutally honest.

Danny would never, and could ever replace him. And he would rather go through his life never having that level of a friendship with someone, then feel as if he was betraying Flack in some way.

But it doesn't bother you that you're hooking up with his wife, a small voice inside of Danny's head piped up. It bothers you that you don't want to replace him as a friend but you don't care that you're trying to replace him in his wife's heart? And in her bed?

You motherfucker, Danny thought, directing the insult to that evil, twisted part of his brain. Why can't you just let me be happy? Why can't you just back off and let me live my life the way I want to? My heart knows what it wants and it wants her.

No one is telling you not to live your life and move on, Danny. Move on. Live your life. Just do it with someone that ISN'T your dead best friend's wife.

"Go fuck yourself," Danny said aloud, his eyes snapping open.

He set his chair upright and reached for the receiver belonging to the phone on his desk. Snatching it up, he placed it between his ear and shoulder and punched in the familiar telephone number. Grabbing a bottle of water that sat next to his computer, he twisted off the cap and tossed it onto the top of his desk before leaning back in his chair and taking a long sip of the ice cold beverage.

"Hello?" her tired voice resonated from the other end of the line.

"Hey babe," Danny greeted, his own voice quiet and subdued.

"Hey…" she perked up a little bit, then gave a small yawn. "I'm sorry," she said. "How pathetic is that? Dead on my feet at quarter to nine at night?"

"Mommy-hood is hard work," he mused. "It's a full time job in itself. Crappy sleep, a demanding boss and no pay check being deposited into the bank every second week."

"He's a fourteen pound tyrant," Sam laughed. "He knows how to work all the angles and he's not even four months old yet. Imagine what he's going to be like when he's fourteen."

"I shudder just thinking about that," Danny said. Then lapsed into a silence. For nearly a minute they did little more then listen to each other breathe.

"Danny?" she asked.

"Yeah…I'm here," he replied. "Sorry…my brain is just bogged down with some stuff and I blanked out there for a second."

"Are you okay?" Sam inquired.

"I'm fine," he assured her. "DJ went to sleep okay?" he asked.

"He was out like a light the moment I put him in his crib. He had his last bottle of the night and then I gave him a bath in the sink and he…"

"Lucky kid," Danny commented.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean he's a lucky kid 'cause he got to be completely naked while you gave him a sponge bath. I wish I was there right now. Getting naked, letting you give me a sponge bath and a little something, something."

She giggled at that. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Daniel," she scolded playfully.

"Hey, in my defence you walked right into it talkin' about sponge baths. You must realize that considering the state I'm in at the moment, that something like that would be twisted and construed to suit my…suffering, aching, throbbing manhood."

She roared with laughter. "Purple prose!" she cried. "You sound like you've been reading one too many Harlequin romances! Your suffering, aching, throbbing manhood. What is that?"

He chuckled along with her. "In all seriousness," he said. "And in all honesty…I'm dying here, babe."

"I know," she sighed. "And in all honesty on my part, so am I. It's just…"

"I know…I know…we're moving at your pace here and you're not ready for that. I understand completely. And like I said before, I'm not about to pressure you into anything. I just wanted to make sure that you knew how I was feeling. About you. About us. About how badly I'm jonesin' for you here."

"Oh trust me," she said. "You don't have to drill it into me, Danny. Wait…on second thought…maybe you do."

It was his turn to laugh hysterically. "Now who's being the pervert?" he asked. "You're seriously making me blush here, Brooklyn."

"I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist. It was the first thing that popped into my head. But seriously…"

"Go ahead," he encouraged. "I'm listening in between wiping tears of laughter off of my face."

She sighed heavily. "Danny…"

"Okay…okay…tell me what's on your mind, babe. What are you thinking about?"

Silence.

"Sammie?" he asked. "What…?"

She sighed heavily.

"You're freaking me out here," he admitted. "First silence and then a sigh. That can't be good. At all. Should I prepare myself?"

"It's not bad," she assured him. "At all. It's just…I don't know…maybe more then a little surprising to you?"

"You were born a man?" Danny teased.

She snorted at that. "Please…I am one hundred percent natural woman. Everything I own…well it's what God gave me."

"God sure smiled on you then," he chided. "Sorry…I'll shut up now. That's enough piggish comments. Continue."

"You asked me what I was thinking about," she said. "That you wanted me to tell you what was on my mind."

"I do," he told her.

Another sigh. "Well, here it goes then…" there was a long pause. She cleared her throat noisily. "…the truth is, is that all I've been thinking about is how I want you. In every sense of the word. I want you to want me. I want us…you…I want you to make love to me."

His eyes widened. All words escaped him.

"Danny?" she asked, sounding terrified.

"I'm still here," he replied. "I think there's something wrong with this one. 'Cause I would have sworn I just heard you say that you wanted me to…"

"I did say that," she cut him off. She was embarrassed that she'd been so open and honest. He could hear the anxiety in her voice. "And I probably shouldn't have told you that at work. I probably should have just waited until you got back here after your shift. I shouldn't have told you something like that while you're clocked in."

"No you shouldn't have," he told her. Then quickly added, "'Cause I can't take off and haul ass over there or go and take a cold shower. You've left me hanging here."

"Sorry…" she said sheepishly. "I just should have…"

"I'm kidding, babe. I'm kidding. I'm glad that you told me. I am. But what's changed? Three hours ago we were standing in your kitchen talking about it and…"

"And I realized that I can't run away from this," she said. "I can't run away from the way I feel about you. I can't hide from this, Danny. I want you and I want you to want me and I…" she sighed. "I need you. So bad."

He smiled and sipped his water. "I need you too," he told her. "And I want you…badly…really badly in fact…"

"I just…I'm worried that you only want me because you miss Lindsay as much as you do. I'm worried that you'll regret it and wish it never happened. Because I'm not her and I'm never going to be her and I…"

"And I'm not Flack and I'm never going to be Flack," he interjected. "I know that. I accept that. But I want you, Samantha. Not Lindsay. She's not here. She never will be. It's you I want. It's us. I want us."

"I want that too," she said.

"So then we're going to have to do something about that then," he told her. "We're going to have to…"

A loud knock at the office door tore Danny's attention away from his conversation. Swivelling his chair around, he sighed inwardly when he saw Mac in the hallway, watching him intently with his hands on his hips and his mouth set in a grim line.

"Hang on for a sec, babe," he said into the phone, and covering the receiver with the palm of his hand, he waved Mac into the office. "What's up, boss?" he asked, as Mac opened the door and stuck his head inside.

"I was just hoping that you and I could have a little chat," Mac replied "Considering you're on company time."

In other words cut the personal shit, Danny thought. "I'll just finish up here," he told his boss, nodding down at the phone.

"I'll wait," Mac retorted.

Danny sighed inwardly and put the phone back to his ear. "I've gotta go, babe," he said. "You get some sleep and we'll…continue this when I get there tomorrow."

"I sure hope so," she giggled. "See you soon."

"You can count on that," he assured her. "'Bye."

"Bye," she echoed, and disconnected the call.

* * *

Danny leaned forward in his chair and hung up as well. "Sorry about that, Mac," he said, as his boss journeyed into the office, shutting the door behind him. "I just took a few minutes to check on some things at…" he almost said home but bit his tongue. Instead he took a sip of water before continuing. "I just needed to check on things."

Mac gestured to the empty chair in front of the desk.

"Of course," Danny said.

"I was going to ask you how you were doing," Mac told him as he took a seat. "It was the year anniversary yesterday and I remember all too well how I felt on the first anniversary of nine eleven. I tried to catch up with you after your last shift, but you were in such a fired out hurry…"

"I had some things that I needed to do," the CSI said. "Things I needed to take care of. Important things. But I'm doing okay. I had a few moments yesterday, especially in the morning where things were pretty tough. It's still hard, accepting things the way they are and trying to come to terms with what happened. I mean, I don't know if I'll ever fully accept the way things ended."

Mac nodded in understanding. "It was a blow," he agreed. "A hell of a blow. Certainly the last thing anyone was expecting. To lose two people we loved so much that suddenly. No rhyme or reason to it."

"Death never has rhyme or reason," Danny said. "It just…it just happens. I thought I was going to have this long and happy life. Get married, raise some kids, retire happily, enjoy my grandkids. I loved Lindsay. Every one knows that she was be all and end all. Part of me will always love her. I'll never be able to replace her."

Mac's eyes narrowed. "No one ever questioned how you felt or how you feel about her Danny."

"Some people do," he said. "Some people got this crazy, mixed up, insane notion in their head that I was only with her 'cause…'cause someone else was unavailable at the time. And that's just complete bullshit. I was with her 'cause I loved her and she made me happy. Just 'cause I may have found another woman attractive…"

"Men, and women, always find other people attractive," Mac pointed out. "There's nothing wrong with finding someone attractive other then who you're with. It's human nature. Just because you find another woman beautiful doesn't mean you want to be with them or you're lusting over them. I found other women attractive when I was married to Claire, I'm sure Flack found other women attractive when he was married to Samantha. There's nothing wrong with you thinking someone is attractive while you were with Lindsay. And anyone who says differently…I don't know…I guess they just need to grow up and get out into the real world a bit and dig their head out of whatever romance novel they're reading or tear themselves away from the soap operas they're watching on television."

"Amen to that," Danny said, and took a swig of his water. "I mean, middle school called. It wants it's drama back."

"Some people have a hard time separating fiction from reality," Mac reasoned. "They fall in love with something, or characters, they see and start thinking they're real people. They lose focus that it's fake. Just actors playing roles. And they become very…"

"Crazy? Obsessed?" Danny tossed out.

"That too…but I was going to say, protective."

"Guess that's one word for it. I just…I want people to realize that it's okay to move on, you know? That I just want to be happy and I deserve that."

"You do deserve that," Mac said. "And judging by the end of the conversation that I interrupted, I'd say you are starting to move on, and sounding happy."

"I am," Danny told him, a smile curving his lips. "I've met someone and she's…I don't know…she's smart and funny and we have a great time when we're together. We're both a little unhinged sometimes so it kinda works against each other and keeps us grounded. It's just a new thing, you know? But it's going really, really good. She's a really nice girl. Woman, I should say."

"As long as you're happy, Danny. No one is going to fault you for moving on."

"Have you moved on Mac? I mean, I know you've gone on dates and what not over the years since your wife died. But you've never really gotten into a relationship. Not since Peyton anyway. Have you steered away from it by choice or have you done that 'cause of the insanity of the job?"

Mac considered the question before answering. "I guess it's a little bit of both," he replied. "I've yet to meet anyone that I feel that kind of connection to. Where I legitimately want to spend every waking moment of every waking day with them. I had that with Peyton and things didn't work out. And since then…" he shrugged. "Since then there hasn't been anyone that's crossed my path that I've been interested in in that way. Which is either because my heart is telling me I'm not up for it, or my brain is telling me I don't have time for it. I'm not sure with, to be honest."

Danny nodded slowly, remaining silent and contemplative as he picked the label off the bottle of water in his hand.

"Different people handle loss, and moving forward with their lives, in a different way," Mac told him. "Some people move on very quickly. Months or even weeks afterwards. Some take it slower and stretch it into years. Others never move on. There's no set time limit on when it's appropriate to start living again."

"What if you're ready to move on and you've done that and you're happy and thinking you're falling in love with someone, but at the same time you're worried about what other people are going to say about it? What then?"

"My best advice, don't listen to what other people say. They don't know what you went through or how you're feeling or what you are going through. It's none of their business. Just go on with your life and live it how you want. Not by other peoples standards," Mac stressed.

"And what if you're worried about what other people are going to say about her?" Danny asked. "When they find out who it is?"

Mac gave a small frown. "There's more to this woman that you've met then you're actually telling me Danny."

He sighed heavily and nodded.

"Why would anyone say anything about her? Why would it matter who she is? If you're happy and she's happy what…"

"It's Samantha," Danny blurted out.

Mac blinked.

"I don't know how or when it exactly happened, Mac. I do know it was after Lindsay's death. Nothing ever went on, whether it be physically or in my mind while Lindsay and Flack were still around. I always found Sam pretty and all of that, but I never wanted to be with her be with her if that makes sense. And you know that I've been spending a lot of time over there, helping out and what not since Flack died."

Mac nodded.

"It just happened," Danny said. "I don't know if it was out of the blue or if it's been building up for a long time, but it happened and I'm happy for the first time in a long time. She makes me happy, Mac. And I make her happy and we both deserve that. We both need that."

"It's not uncommon that something new forms out of shared grief. I know myself I've seen it happen to widowers of nine eleven. Men and women that venture into relationships with friends of their deceased loved ones. Maybe it's the common bond they share. In your case, both you and Samantha loved Flack and Lindsay. You were Flack's best friend, you and Lindsay spent time with him and Sam on a regular basis. The girls were like sisters. You and Samantha knew Flack and Lindsay better then they knew themselves. And maybe that's what brought you together. What made things branch out further from something strictly platonic."

"And you don't have a problem with it?" Danny asked. "Me and Sam?"

"Why would I have a problem with it?" Mac inquired. "You're both adults. Capable of handling yourselves in a mature and respectable manner. Of course, once she gets back to work, you'll both have to sit through my 'talk' again."

"Keep professional on one side, personal on the other," Danny said. "Gotcha."

"I'm sure you'll both handle things just fine," the crime lab boss told him and stood up. "And if any talk does start…I guess my best advice is to just ignore it. It's no one's business."

"But it doesn't bother you?" Danny asked, as he watched Mac head for the door. "It doesn't bother you that I'm with my best friend's wife?"

"Flack is dead, Danny," Mac replied as he paused in the doorway. "He's not coming back. And neither is Lindsay. And I highly doubt they're going to condemn either one of you for being happy. As for me…it doesn't bother me. Because I've lost someone and I know how hard it is to be truly happy again. And if you've found that…" he sighed heavy.

Danny waited quietly and patiently for the older man to continue.

"If you've found that, I envy you," Mac finished, and pulling open the office door, stepped out into the hallway.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone that is reading and supporting me and my stories! I appreciate each and every one of you and I hope that you continue to enjoy! So please R and R folks!**


	12. Chapter 12

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OBVIOUSLY. I DO OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY DJ.**

**ONCE AGAIN, THIS IS A DANNY/OC STORY. IF THE THOUGHT OF DANNY WITH SOMEONE ELSE OTHER THEN LINDSAY TURNS YOUR STOMACH, THIS ISN'T THE STORY FOR YOU. IF YOU ENJOY IT AND FEEL HE, AS A FICTIONAL CHARACTER, CAN BE WITH ANYONE UNDER THE SUN, ENJOY!**

**ALSO, IF YOU DON'T LIKE READING A LESS THAN PERFECT FLACK, YOU MIGHT NOT LIKE MY STUFF EITHER. **

**ONE MORE OLD CHAPTER TO GO AFTER THIS! HOPE TO SEE YOU ALL COME BACK AND REVIEW WHEN THE NEW STUFF IS UP!**

**USE OF ITALICS DENOTES A FLASHBACK.**

* * *

**The highs and the lows**

"I probably wouldn't be this way  
I probably wouldn't hurt so bad  
I never pictured every minute without you in it  
Oh You left so fast  
Sometimes I see you standing there  
Sometimes it's like I'm losing touch  
Sometimes I feel like I'm so lucky to have had the chance to love this much  
God gave me a moment's grace  
'Cause if I'd never seen your face  
I probably wouldn't be this way."  
-Probably Wouldn't Be This Way, LeAnn Rimes

* * *

A soft smile gracing her face, Samantha pressed end on the cordless phone on her hand and set it its base located on the five shelf book case that inhabited the far wall of the home office. It had been over a year since she'd stepped foot inside of that room. She had kept the door closed and avoided the desire to journey inside on many occasions. She had simply let the dust pile up and the emails that had gone into her husband's account on the PC got unanswered. It had once been the most inhabited room in the entire house. Many a sleepless night and countless weekends had seen her husband behind that desk. Surrounded by case files, his phone held to his ear with his shoulder as he either conversed, or argued with, whoever was on the other end. Eyes conveying annoyance as they flicked back and forth between the computer screen and the papers strewn all over the desk.

Don Flack Junior had been notoriously unorganized. Infamous for his horrific filing system -he admittedly had none, but insisted he knew exactly where everything was- and his terrible typing skills. He had been old school. Preferring paper and pen to a computer keyboard. Sam could recall, on numerous occasions from the very first day they met, wondering how in the hell he'd ever survived so long in a technology age when he was two finger typer. Both index fingers and that was it. It took him forever to get even the simplest of reports done, and there'd been many a time, when away from the scrutiny and prying eyes of the precinct, she'd been the one to sit down with his log book and files - all containing his almost intelligible handwriting- and spend hours converting his notes onto the proper computerized forms.

It had been their little secret of course. If the department had ever caught wind of the fact she was reading his work and knew of cases and witnesses and victims that she had no business being none the wiser of, shit would have definitely hit the fan. Every time she expressed concerned over being busted for what they were doing, Don had always shrugged his shoulders and applied his 'What they don't know won't hurt them' philosophy to the situation. And when he was commended by brass for having his work done in record time and for being so precise and thorough, it had been all he could do to keep a sly smirk off of his face.

And then he'd come home and thank his wife in his own personal, private way.

He had also been a self admitted work-aholic. He had never known when to simply walk away and take a break from something. When he immersed himself in his work, whether it was at the precinct or at home, he'd become somewhat obsessed. He'd hated letting things lie. His main fear was that if he stepped away, even for a short period of time, leads would get wasted and the trail would go cold. He felt that if he was on top of things and persons of interest at all times, the higher the chances of successfully solving a case. Many a joint day or weekend off, even their dating period, had consisted of them doing their separate things. While he either parked himself in the home office -or in the tiny spare room when they still lived in their cramped apartment in lower Manhattan- she'd busy herself with laundry or other chores. In the cold weather, she'd often be in the living room watching television or reading while he worked away. If the weather cooperated, she'd go rollerblading through Central Park or take her credit and bank cards on a shopping trip in mid-town.

Mostly she stayed inside. While they weren't in the same room, she liked the feeling of security being under the same roof as him had provided her with. Out alone, she was just that. Alone. In the apartment, even with him down the hall, they were still essentially together. She could hear his deep, authoritative voice as he barked out orders on the phone. The clicking off the keyboard as he typed. The occasional squeak of the chair when he shifted his position. A cough or a sneeze. The littlest thing that let her know that he was still around. As long as she could hear him, sense him, the loneliness avoided her. Sometimes, she'd actually sit in the room with him. She'd bring in a chair from the kitchen and they'd share the desk. She put her feet in his lap as she read a magazine or surf the 'net on her lap top. She'd bring him cups of coffee or stand behind him and massage the tension out of his neck or try riding him of a ferocious headache by rubbing his temples. She'd make lunch and dinner and they'd eat in that small second bedroom. And many a time, he'd still be in there long after she'd gone to bed.

Her mother, and most of her friends, called her nuts for putting up with 'that shit'. They didn't understand how she tolerated being ignored and put on the bottom of his totem pole of priorities. Sam had argued that that was just the way things were. It was their relationship and that was how they did things. It was no one's business and no one was in the place to judge them. No one knew about those quiet conversations they'd have when he'd take a break from his work. The way he'd smile at her from across the desk, tenderness and affection and love in his eyes as he listened intently to whatever she had to say. The way he'd rub her legs or illicit hysterical laughter and bring tears to her eyes when he tickled the base of her toes or the ultra sensitive arches of her feet. Or the way, by a simple look from her, he'd simply put everything on hold and take her into the confines of their bedroom and show her that she was still important to him. That he still loved her and still wanted her. And needed her.

But despite the fact that she'd accepted that being with a cop had met that there were times she'd be second or even third of fourth in his life, there had been moments where she'd been angry. Pissed off that he couldn't just concentrate on them for a change. Why he just couldn't save his work and turn the computer off and spend even half an hour of his time with her. As a couple. There'd been many an argument and many tears on her part when he'd none so gently reminded her that she had walked into a relationship with him knowing that this could happen. Knowing that his career was everything to him.

* * *

"_But I want to be everything to you, Don!" she pleaded, following a particularly nasty exchange shortly after they'd gotten married. He had been gunning for his promotion to Sargent and their life as a newly married couple was taking a serious hit. He was clocking insane hours. Over ninety one week, close to eighty the next. And when he was home he was glued to the computer and the phone was practically cemented to his ear. _

"_You are!" he argued. "I married you didn't I? You're my wife! I wouldn't have married you if you weren't the most important thing in my life!"_

"_But sometimes it doesn't feel like I am! Please just listen to me! Sometimes it feels like I'm the last thing that's important to you. I know your job is important to you, Donnie. I know how much your career means to you. And believe me, I want you to climb the ladder and I want you to succeed. But at the same time I want to feel…I don't know…I guess I want to know that you don't think getting married to me was a huge mistake."_

_His eyes narrowed. There was vehemence in his voice. "Is that what you think? That getting married was a huge mistake?"_

"_No. I wouldn't have married you if I didn't want to be with you for the rest of my life. But the problem is…we're not really together, Donnie. Don't you see that? We merely co-exist ninety percent of the time. We live under the same roof and that's it. We share the same bed. For sleeping . That's it. Half the time I'm already in bed and fast asleep before you come in the room. We've been married three months and I can count the number of times a month since we got married that we made love."_

"_So what you're saying is that sex is the biggest part of our relationship," Flack snorted. "What a reason to get married to someone."_

"_Don't you turn this around on me!" she cried, taking three bounding steps to his desk and slamming her hands down on top of it. "Sex isn't the biggest part of our relationship. But I miss it! I miss you and the intimacy we used to share. And not just the sexual intimacy either. I mean the simple things. The way you put your arm around me and you brush your fingers against my shoulder. The way you push my hair behind my ears and kiss my forehead. The way we used to spend Sunday mornings just lying around in bed. I miss those quiet, peaceful moments just being in your arms and listening to your heart beat. I miss…I miss you, okay? I just miss you."_

"_And you can have me back once I get this promotion, Sammie. Two more months. Two more months and then I take the exam and things will go back to normal. I promise you."_

"_And if they don't? If they don't go back to normal? You were like this even before you knew you were up for promotion."_

_He sighed and dropped his pen angrily onto his desk and leaned back in his chair. Placing his hands behind his head, he laced his fingers together and stared long and hard at her. "My job is important," he informed her._

"_I fucking know that! You remind me every goddamn time we fight about this!"_

"_Well maybe if you stopped getting on my ass all the time about it, you wouldn't have to keep hearing it. You never fucking stop, Sam! You go on and on and on. You never just shut your goddamn mouth about it! I told you before we even got married that if you didn't want to accept that sometimes you'd be second, that you had every right to walk away from me. I told you that! And yet here you are. You still married me. When that promotion is secured, things will change. But for now…for now just back off of me and shut the fuck up about it."_

"_I won't back off of you and I won't just shut up! Who the hell do you think you are? Your father? Just because your mother sat back and let him shit all over her for the last forty years, don't think for one goddamn second your getting away with that crap! I deserve respect from you! I deserve to be first once in awhile, Donnie! I married you because I love you! You're a pompous, mean, arrogant, insensitive douche bag sometimes but I love you! For some goddamn reason I actually love you! And I want forever with you!"_

"_Okay…you know what?" Flack calmly went back to his work. He'd long ago learned that avoiding her when she got into her hyped up, confrontational moods, was the best thing for both of them. If he got into a fight with her, things would turn nasty and he'd end up saying things he neither meant, or could take back. Hurting his wife's feelings was definitely not on his agenda. And when he got defensive, hurting her was the first thing he always resorted to. " I think you need to just step away Sam and go somewhere and calm down. You say a lot of shit when you're angry. So just leave the room, go chill out somewhere and come back when you're ready to talk about this like a mature, reasonable adult."_

"_You should be thankful I'm not bottling this all up!" she cried, brushing tears off of her cheeks. "Do you remember what happened last time? When I bottled it all up 'cause I knew you wouldn't listen to me? I was one step away from a nervous breakdown. You were the one that told me to open up to you more. To tell you how I felt 'cause you weren't a mind reader. And now you're just….not listening to me."_

"_It's hard to listen to you when you're like this," he told her. "When you're acting like some spoiled rotten, selfish, clingy, whiny little bitch."_

"_I'm sorry…I'm sorry if you find it clingy that your wife wants to spend time with you. I'm sorry if you find it selfish that I want my husband back! Or that I'm whining because I tell you how you're making me feel. And maybe I am spoiled. But only because until we got married, you were mine and I was yours and I didn't feel like I had to compete with your job for five minutes of your time."_

"_You don't have to compete. There's no competition. I just need you to be more patient, Sammie. More understanding. I need you…" he sighed. "I need you to accept me for me. I need you to realize that I shouldn't have to change who I am to be with you. I shouldn't have to become a completely different man just to suit you. You should love me and accept me as is."_

"_And you should love me to enough to realize that I need you to need me. I need you to want me, Donnie. I need you to love me."_

"_I do love you, Samantha. And I do need you and I do want you."_

"_But not enough that you'd look up from your paperwork and say that to my face," she mused, and turning on her heel, stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her._

She had stormed down the hall of their apartment, tears of anger and hurt streaming down her face. She bypassed their bedroom door, barely resisting the urge to go inside and pack her things and take off. Not permanently. Leaving him permanently had never been and never would be an option. Because despite his immense dedication to his job, he was a good man. A great husband. Who tried hard to make things perfect between them. Who wanted nothing more then to take care of her. Both financially and emotionally. She had always prided herself on being fiercely independent. She had never needed or relied on a man to pay her way or take hold of situations. It wasn't until Don Flack Junior that she had realized it was more because she had always had to be in control in her relationships. She had never trusted a man enough to allow him to make decisions, to reign her in when her moods got out of hand. To ultimately protect. And then she'd fallen quickly and hopelessly in love with him and had surrendered the most vulnerable parts of herself to him. She found she liked being taking care of. She liked having someone coming to her aide and making her feel safe. Even if she didn't always let him know that.

The problem was, since he was old enough to remember, Flack had always possessed a desire to have control over everything in his life. And when he felt that control slipping or felt threatened by her trying to assume control, it was then that he lashed out. They had bad moments. All newly married couples went through some trying times. Being in a committed, legally binding relationship definitely took some getting used to. On both their parts. But what they lacked in communication skills, they made up for in love.

Only sometimes you need more than that, she had thought, as she stormed into the kitchen and began tossing open cupboards in search of something to eat. Food at always been her weakness. She wasn't afraid to eat. Not by a long shot. If she liked something, she ate it. She didn't worry about it going to her ass or her hips. All her life she'd fluctuated between a size eight at her lowest and a twelve at her heaviest. She had no desire to fit into size zero jeans or be model thin. But when she got stressed or emotional, she immediately turned to food as her comfort. And during the early stages of her marriage, she had seemed to be seeking comfort at an alarming rate.

She had dried her tears and vowed to never, ever let him have that kind of negative effect on her again -easier said then done, considering it always seemed that the ones you loved the most also drove you the most insane- and decided on her before dinner snack. The remainders of a tub of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream, and a half full bag of Oreo cookies. Which she ate, standing at the counter. She had just dipped her third cookie into the ice cream and bit into it when her husband, ceramic coffee mug in hand, journeyed into the kitchen. A frown on his face, his blue eyes dark and serious.

_She watched him, through narrowed eyes as he silently made his way to the sink a mere foot from where she stood leaning over the counter. No words were exchanged as he turned the water on to rinse his cup, then shut the taps off and set the mug on the edge of the sink._

_Turning, he leaned back against the counter. The movement causing his arm to brush up against her._

_She glared down at his arm as it briefly touched her, and as if it had scalded her, sidestepped until she was out of reach._

"_Don't be like that, Sammie…" Flack said in a quiet, almost sad voice._

"_Let's just not talk," she suggested. "Because every time we try to say three words to each other lately it just turns into a massive thing. And I'm tired of fighting you with Donnie. I don't want us to be that way. We just got married. We're suppose to be disgustingly happy and in love. Not…" she sighed heavily and dipped her cookie into the ice cream. "Not like this."_

"_I am disgustingly in love," he informed her. _

"_I noticed you didn't toss the word happy in there somewhere," she said._

"_Why toss it in there if it's not true?" he asked._

_She frowned. "Nice…very nice. What a sweet, lovely thing to say to your wife. Your game is even worse then I ever thought possible."_

"_It's not that I'm not happy with you. 'Cause I am, babe. You know that. The only time I am happy is when I'm with you. And I'm not talking sexually. I'm talking when it's just me and you and we shut out the entire world. When we forget about everything except for us. Those are the times when I'm happy. And we haven't…we just haven't had many of those time since we got married."_

"_And somehow in all of that I'm too blame?"_

"_Was I blaming you? Did it sound as if I was blaming you for anything? It's not us, Sammie. It's everything surrounding us. Surrounding me. It's Whitmore and Sinclair and it's my father. It's me and my obsession with proving that I can be better then him. I want that promotion. So bad I can taste it. And I'm worried that if I don't throw myself into it, I'll lose that chance. And I've been an ass. I know that. I haven't been there for you when you needed me. I've pushed you away and ignored you and shit all over you. And you know that I never meant to do any of that."_

"_But you still did it," she pointed out._

"_What do you want me to say, babe? I suck at relationships. I always have. I've always been too selfish to be with someone on a constant basis. And now here I am. Married. Which is not the time to be a self centered prick. And I'm trying here. I am really, really trying to be what you need me to be. It's just…I don't know…I guess I just royally suck at being a husband."_

_She shook her head and dug into the ice cream container. "It's not just you, Donnie," she said. "I know important your job is. I want you to succeed and do achieve great things. You know how proud I am of you. But at the same time, I need you to be there for me. And I should have just realized that at this time, you can't do that."_

"_Yes I can," he assured her. "I can do both. I can do the job and be a husband."_

"_I have been selfish," Sam concluded, popping her spoon into her mouth. "I've wanted you all to myself and I wanted to be the only thing in your life. But that isn't reality and I know that. It's a fantastical, overly romantic way of thinking. And I'm sorry if it was all a little too much for you to deal with."_

_His eyes narrowed as he regarded her, his head tilted slightly to the side. "Is it wrong that you lost me somewhere along the way? Because for the life of me, I can't figure out what it is your exactly trying to say."_

"_We're both immature, self centered tools who need to grow up and start working together. As a team. We need to stop thinking and acting as individuals," she told him. "We went into this marriage and we need to build on it together. It's a learning process. Well there's lots left to learn on both of our parts."_

"_Guess it's a good thing we've got all of our lives to do this learning thing, huh?" he asked, a dimply grin spreading across his face as he reached out to run a hand over her hair and down to the small of her back. Pressing a kiss to her temple, his hand slipped around to her side and he pulled her tight against him. "That way we don't have to waste all of our time schooling each other."_

_She giggled at that. "I quite like it when you school me on things," she said._

"_Yeah…and I know what kind of things you're talking about," he chuckled. "Seeing as I took this innocent, near virginal Catholic girl to bed one night and it took me a few sleepless nights to transform her into a wild and crazy sex goddess."_

"_Yeah?" she asked, a licked ice cream off of her spoon with the tip of her tongue. "What was her name?"_

"_You're a goddamn smart ass," he declared, and tangling a hand in her dark, waist length hair, captured her mouth in a sizzling, toe curling kiss. "You know what I think we need to do?" he asked, when the need for air became overpowering and he broke from the kiss, only to concentrate on pressing his lips along her jaw line and the side of her neck._

"_What's that?" she asked, although the flutter in her stomach and the heat spreading through her entire boy gave away what she wanted to be doing._

"_I think we both need to apologize and then have insanely hot make up sex."_

_She laughed and placed her elbow against his stomach and playfully pushed him away. "You and your damn make up sex," she said, shaking her head._

"_Best sex of all," he declared, and trailed his hand down her side, over her hip and around to her ass._

"_Is that an insult?" she teased. "Are you trying to say that all other types of sex with me are horrible?"_

"_Absolutely not…any and all types of sex with you are incredible. It's just…" he pushed her hair off of her shoulder and leaned in close to suckling lightly at her shoulder before his teeth nipped gentle at the sensitive spot just below her ear. "That's just something about make up sex that makes it insanely hot. All that adrenaline I guess from fighting. You're still a little pissed off at each other so you take it out on each other in the bedroom. Nothing wrong with that."_

"_You know what I think?" she asked, and fanned herself off with her hand._

"_What?" he inquired, and moved her hair away from the side of her face to kiss and lick her ear._

"_I think we need to re-christen every possible place in this apartment," she declared._

* * *

And that was exactly what they had done. For the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening -in between breaks for beverages and sustenance- all thoughts of work had been pushed aside. And afterwards, when they were exhausted and completely and utterly sated, they lay in the middle of their rumbled bed together, sweaty limbs entangled, her head resting on his chest as he stroked her hair and her fingers traced lightly over the jagged scars that decorated his chest and lower left abdomen. Their hearts had pounded in unison as their ragged breathing slowly returned to normally. And it was then that he'd said the words she'd remember all of her life.

"_Till death to us part, Sammie," he whispered, his lips in her hair. "I meant when I said that. Every word. 'Cause death is the only thing that can take me away from you."_

And it had. It had torn him away from her far ahead of his time. The moment those words had escaped from her lips, she'd scolded him for being so fatalistic. For even talking about something like that when he was barely crowding thirty two. And he'd gathered her into his arms and rolled her onto her back. And bearing his weight on his left forearm, cupped the side of her face gently with his right hand and look deep into her soul. Blue eyes locked on golden brown.

"_I meant when I'm old and grey and I go in my sleep, Tinks," he said. "Unless you're planning on offing me sometime soon."_

"_Only on days that end in Y," she'd laughed, and then catching him off guard, tackled him onto his back._

After that, things had changed drastically. He'd made a valiant effort to put his new wife ahead of his work. They had fought less and loved more. They had learned to forgive easier and when it was time to walk away from each other when they felt as if things were spiralling out of control. They were enjoying the slow process of learning every little intricate thing about one another.

Then that learning had so abruptly ended the moment she'd heard the news of the plane crash that had claimed her husband's life. Along with many others. And she thought, as she stood in front of his desk, wringing the papers in her hands together nervously as she eyed 'homework' and folders that had been sitting there for over a year now, that she had had so much more to learn about the love of her life. So much more to experience with him. So many more ups and downs and moments of joy and sorrow.

Anger still lingered near the surface. She was angry that he had left her. That he had broken that promise of forever he'd made to her. They were suppose to have the rest of their lives together. They were suppose to raise a family, welcome grandchildren, grow old and grey and enjoy their golden years together. They were suppose to be a team.

And he had left her. Without a chance to say goodbye.

Stop it, Sammie, she scolded herself, closing her eyes in an effort to compose herself. What happened wasn't Donnie's fault. He didn't know it was going to happen and he couldn't have stopped it. He didn't leave you because he wanted too. He left you because he HAD to.

Hallow words some days. There were times thinking that way brought her comfort, and other times they did little to to scratch the surface of the grief and animosity that often threatened to suffocate her. Tonight, convincing herself that her husband's death had in no way been preordained on his part, nor had he wanted to leave her or their unborn child, had done its job. The anger lifted, the grief abatted and she opened her eyes.

She was worried however, that it wasn't quite normal that she still had these unwavering, intense feelings of love for someone that didn't even exist anymore. That she was some kind of freak for letting her grief still overpower her a year later.

That there was something wrong with her because she still loved and missed her husband even thought a new man had come into her life and she was quickly developing such strong, overwhelming feelings for him. Not quite a 'new' man, she thought with a small grin, as she journeyed around behind the cluttered desk and pulled the chair out with her foot. It amazed her, and frightened her, that she was tumbling so hard and so fast for Danny. Someone that she had always considered one of her closest, most dearest friends. A brother, almost.

Someone that was engaged to your dead best friend, a voice piped up inside of her head.

"That's neither here, nor there," she said aloud, then laughed, feeling like an ass for talking to herself.

Was it okay that she still missed and adored her husband even though she was falling for someone else? Was it okay that that person was her husband's best friend? Was it okay to be experiencing grief and love at the same time? Was that even possible? Was she doing both Don and Danny huge disservices by feeling fifty different things at once?

What's not normal is that you obsess over things too much, she told herself. Just let things happen in their own way. Stop torturing yourself and take things one step at a time.

Sighing heavily, she combed her fingers through her hair and gazed down at the mess that littered the desk. An uncapped pen, manilla folders -Danny had long ago gone into the office and gathered anything of dire importance the NYPD would need and returned it to the brass- pieces of crumpled computer paper, a yellow legal pad bearing her husband's hand writing.

"You are such a slob, Donnie," she said aloud, and setting the stack of bills in her hand on top of the computer monitor, began tidying up the work space.

Shuffling papers together and stuffing them into the folders, putting the cap back on the pen and dropping it into the Mets mug that served as a pen and pencil holder. She picked up the yellow legal pad and prepared to close it, pausing briefly as her eyes skimmed the writing that was there. Notes for a case that he had been taking while talking with one of his guys on the phone, they stopped abruptly and in mid sentence halfway down the page. She couldn't remember now why or how he'd be interrupted during his work, but he had never gone back to it. It was probably one of the last things he'd worked on before…

Stop torturing yourself, Sam ordered, and snapped the pad closed and dropped it ontop of the folders she'd already organized. In a couple of days, she'd go back in there and gathered everything up of his that was no longer needed. All of his files and notes and anything else work related, go through them and either shred them or return them to the department. It was time to start between some of the past behind her in order to move on with the future.

But for now, she had work to do. Dropping into the leather chair, she reached out to power up the computer and grabbed the stack of bills and laid them out in front of her. Most were still in Don's name. She'd happily given him the responsibility of paying the bills. She would do the cooking and the cleaning if he did all the manual work, help with grocery shopping, and make sure the bills were paid on time. If it had have been left up to her, things would have easily been forgotten and their hydro or heat been disconnected.

Scatterbrained. He had always called her that. Lovingly of course. It was never said out of malice. She'd be running around the house or the apartment fretting about not being able to find her car keys or her purse or her sunglasses. And for a few minutes, he'd calmly listen to her frantic ranting and raving and watch her tear the place apart, and then he slowly walk over to where he knew the purse or the keys were lying in wait, take them and hand them to her. And one more then one occasion, he had journeyed over to her, giving that boyish, dimply grin and reached up to pull her sunglasses off of her head and push them onto her face.

"Scatterbrained," he'd declared with a smile, and kissed her softly.

There were worse things I've been called throughout my thirty-five years, Sam mused, as she spread the bills out across the desk and reached for a pen in the Mets mug. Her hand pausing in mid air as her eyes settled on the framed photograph that sat proudly amidst the mess. An engagement photo that she had had to practically beg Don to take part in it. The moment that he had slipped that diamond on her figure, she had begun to make wedding plans. They had agreed right off the hop that they wanted a church wedding with no more then seventy five guests and a nice reception afterwards. That was all the decisions he needed to make, he said. The rest was up to her. His only request was that there be nothing tacky like ice sculptures or doves that had to be released. And NO pink. The second they'd returned from Atlantic City, Sam had run out and bought every wedding magazine and planned imaginable. Once she had read about engagement photos, her mind had been made up. They NEEDED one.

Don hadn't seen the need for it. It wasn't as if they were announcing their engagement in a newspaper or anything. Their family and friends just needed to be told about. What purpose did an engagement picture serve? Her argument had been that she wanted a nice picture of the two of them together. Something professional. Not something that had been taken on someone's digital or a disposable camera. Something they'd be able to give his parents and send to her folks in Arizona and pass around to their closest friends if they wanted to.

Finally he had relented after two months of near incessant begging. They'd booked a photographer -for what he'd grumbled was a 'ridiculous amount of money for pictures we could get a friend of a family member to do'- and had converged on Central Park on a gorgeous, brilliant and uncharacteristically warm early spring day. Clad in simple black tops -a turtleneck for her, a Henley shirt for him- and jeans, they'd spent an hour being ordered into various poses by the photographer. Employing everything from park benches and the park fountain to the various statues throughout the park to capture half a dozen usable shots. In the end, the one that graced the top of her husband's desk had been their favourite of all. Don sitting down on the grass, his legs bent at the knee, arms wrapped loosely around them, with Sam kneeling behind him with her arms over his shoulders and her cheek pressed against his.

But what she remembered most about that day, wasn't his bitching or moaning about the whole process. Bitching and moaning about things was just his way. Nothing would ever change that. And she'd learned to tune him out or wave it off or tease him about being a snotty little boy. What she remembered was the rest of the day after the photographer had left. She had assumed once things were done, that was it. They'd head back to the apartment and Don would go back to his paperwork and she'd busy herself doing housework or watching television. Instead, as they headed for the exit of the park hand in hand, he'd suddenly stopped in his tracks, pulled her into him and covered her lips with his in a long, slow, tender kiss. Then announced they weren't going home. He didn't feel like it.

They'd spent the entire day in the park. Sprawled out on the grass with hotdogs and pretzels and ice cream and lemon merinque and chocolate caramel flavoured fudge they'd purchased at vendors along the way. They'd talked and laughed and teased on another. Forgetting about everything and anything that existed outside of them. For once, all thoughts of work were pushed to the back burner and they became just a normal couple madly in love with each other. And as they'd laid together on the grass, Flack on his back, one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched straight out, a forearm over his eyes, and Sam on her stomach tight against his side and her chin resting on his shoulder, she'd smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek and nuzzled his ear with her nose.

Grateful for the opportunity she'd been given to not only meet and fall in love with him and he with her, but to spend the rest of her life with him. And she'd promised herself, from that day forward, to never take him or his presence for granted.

Sadly, she had. Like most humans who became to wrapped up in their daily routines and stresses, there'd been times when maybe she didn't show him or tell him she loved him and appreciated him enough.

* * *

I am not making that same mistake twice, she vowed now. It was too late to mend the errors she'd made with Don. And it pained her immensely to think that maybe, a small part of him hadn't known the true depth of her feelings for him. That he had maybe questioned on occasion if she felt they'd done the right thing getting married and attempting a life together. But she was determined to learn from her ways. She wasn't going to hold anything back this time around. She was going to speak her mind and bare her heart and soul. She wasn't going to let a single moment go by without letting Danny know how happy she was having him in her life. How much she l..

She couldn't say it out loud just yet. While it felt so right to be both speaking the word and feeling it, part of her told her it was too soon. That she should just keep it back until she felt comfortable and at ease using that four letter word for someone other then her husband.

Face it girl, you're falling in love with him, she thought, as there mere passing though of Danny Messer brought a smile to her face and made her stomach and heart flutter. Why deny it? Who does it hurt admitting something like that? You're only hurting yourself and taking an unnecessary chance with your heart by not telling him. If he doesn't know, he could easily just walk on out of your life and find someone who will tell him.

I'll admit it, she decided, as she logged onto the on line banking service to take care of the bills before her. But I'm only admitting it to myself right now.

She rummaged through the stack of papers and envelopes in front of her until she reached the most important item there. A copy of the death certificate issued by the ME's office. Although the NYPD had taken care of all pension and personnel issues, she still had things that needed to be changed into her name. All the bills for one. She also knew she had to take Don's name off of their joint account and the credit cards they'd had in both of their names. And she had to remove him as the beneficiary of her own life insurance policy. She'd left it all for far too long. And dealing with it was a sign that she was getting in control of herself again. That her life was becoming her own. That she was coping.

Opening the envelope, she pulled out the copy of the death certificate and sighed heavily as she looked down at the name and the words typed out on that sheet before her. Sid had made the 'official' call based on evidence from the NTSB that no one could have possibly survived the crash. He had determined that the case of death was fragmentation to blunt force trauma and then signed off on his decision. She could remember, the tears in his eyes as he stood on her front porch handing his findings over to her. He was apologetic that there'd been nothing found and that there were no definite answers that he could give her.

She didn't have the heart to tell him that she'd already received the papers from the FBI. Sid was a gentle, kind man. Who possessed a startling amount of compassion and love for everyone he came across. He had been like a father to her since the very first day she'd started. He was down to earth and personable and he liked that she always laughed at his corny jokes and was genuinely interested in stories and personal anecdotes he'd told her numerous times.

He had done what he could with the limited information he'd been given and Sam appreciated that.

And she missed him. She missed those stories and his jokes. And his cooking. Before he'd become an ME, Sid had lived his 'previous' life has a chef. It had become a common occurrence for him to bring various dishes to work for her to have on her break or to take home for both her and Don to enjoy. And after they'd gotten married, they'd gone to Sid's home on various occasions, whether it was a dinner party the man was hosting or just Sunday supper.

Selecting a pen from the mug, she uncapped it with her teeth. **CALL SID**, she scrawled on the bottom of one of the bills. **ASAP.**

Spitting the cap out of her mouth and onto the desk, she pushed the chair across the room and settled herself in front of the fax machine. Prepared to make copies of the certificate to drop off or mail to the various companies.

Until she heard the sound of the sliding door in the kitchen opening. The damn thing squeaked horribly, and it had been on her mind for weeks now to put some oil on it to rectify the problem. She sat quietly and listened to heavy footsteps falling on her kitchen floor and becoming closer and closer to her location.

Wonderful, she thought. The hair on the back of her neck standing straight up and her heart pounding. Someone breaks in and there's not one gun in the 's what you get for not learning to lock the goddamn doors. She picked up the receiver of the phone on the desk and had her finger hovering over the number nine when a familiar voice finally spoke up.

"Samantha?…Are you around?"

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, she put the phone back and got up from her chair and went to the office door and poked her head out into the hall. Smiling at the tall, strong man that stood in the hall. His blue eyes sparkling as he saw her, flashing a warm, dimply smile of his own.

"Long time no see," her father in law said.

"Too long considering you practically live in my backyard," she chided.

"Things have been…" Flack Senior sighed heavily. "Strange," he finished. "Very strange."

She nodded in agreement. "Something tells me that your lovely wife sent you over here."

He shook his head. "I came over on my own accord," he assured her. "I realized I'd been shutting myself off from you and DJ. For purely selfish reasons and I was hoping that…"

She waited patiently as the older man chose his words carefully.

"That we could talk," he said at last. "About you. About DJ."

She nodded.

"And about my son," he added sadly.

She gave a warm smile and crossed the small expanse of hallway and laid a gentle hand on his bicep.

"I'd like that," she said.


	13. Chapter 13

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. 'NUFF SAID.**

**A/N: THANKS TO EVERYONE THAT IS ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS!**

**LAST ONE FOLKS! AND THE NEW CHAPTER IS HALF WAY DONE! KEEP AN EYE OUT!**

* * *

**A father's torment**

"I knew a man who lived in fear  
It was huge, it was angry,  
It was drawing his house a secret place  
Was the shadow of the demon  
He could never face.  
He built a wall of steel and flame  
And men with guns to keep it tame  
Then standing back he made it plain  
That the nightmare would never ever rise again  
But the fear and the fire and the guns remain.  
It doesn't matter now it's over anyhow  
He tells the world that it's sleeping  
But as the night came round I heard  
It slowly sound  
It wasn't roaring, it was weeping  
It wasn't roaring, it was weeping."  
-Weeping, Josh Groban

* * *

As the sun settled on the horizon and the sky was filled with swatches of brilliant orange and pink, Samantha settled down in one of the wrought iron chairs on her back deck. A steaming cup of decaffeinated tea and the receiver of the baby monitor parked on the table in front of her. There was a slight chill in the air. And as the breeze tousled the tree tops and fluttered loose tendrils of hair against the sides of her face, she wrapped her grey wool cardigan tightly around her body and warmed her hands on the side of her mug. Across from her, her father in law, his elbows resting on the mosaic table top, his black coffee settled between his large, strong hands, sat with his mouth set in a grim line and his blue eyes troubled and weary. Sam found it hard to look at him. Not out of awkwardness caused by the stress that had been put on her by what she assumed was his disinterest in her and the baby, or by the way he'd gone from welcoming her into family with open arms when she and Don were dating to ignoring her and alienating her following DJ's birth, but because seeing the resemblance between the elder Flack and her deceased husband was nothing short of painful.

While Flack Senior's hair -worn just shy of a brush cut- had long gone grey, his face was smooth and youthful for his age. Tiny wrinkles played at the corner of the beautiful blue eyes that he'd passed down to his namesake. Father and son always shared the same strong jaw, slightly crooked nose -Don Junior's had been made worse by an elbow to the face a perp had managed to land on him during his uniform days- the same lips, ears and chin. Even the same dimply grin and the mischievous, caught with the hand in the cookie jar grin that often spread across their faces. Like his son, Flack Senior stood over six feet tall. He'd been a presence back in his day. Broad shoulders, powerful arms. An icy look he flashed quickly and easily and got him farther with a criminal then words did. He was aggressive and assertive. The moment he walked into the room with a slightly arrogant swagger, he owned the place. Even at sixty-seven his confidence had never been stronger. He commanded situations and people easily. All traits that he'd passed down to his oldest son.

Deep down, Flack Senior was, despite a long conquered battle with the bottle that had seen him abusive both physically and mentally to his wife and his children during their younger years, a gentle giant. He had welcomed her with open arms while other members of the family were standoffish. He had regaled her with stories of being a 'beat warrior', one of the cops who'd walked the streets day in and day out along with Stanton Gerrard and transformed the ghettos of the city into livable, respectable places. Ridding neighbours of drug dealers and prostitutes. He politely listened to her talk about her schooling and her time spent working with the Phoenix PD. Both as a uniform and as a forensic investigator. He made no attempt to hide his opinions that the women in the NYPD were nowhere near as good as the men. He was old boys school, and while that normally would have upset her, she respect his opinions because he wasn't afraid to speak them. He wasn't hiding in a board room, trash talking every female member of the department then smiling and congratulating them and posing for photos ops when they achieved something great. He put on no airs. What you saw was what you got. Plain and simple. And she found that both irritation and charming at times.

She respected him. For everything he'd achieved in his life and for the amazing young man that he had raised. While she didn't necessarily agree with his views on things, they had formed an unlikely friendship. He had quickly taking her under his wing. Charmed by those sparkling golden brown eyes and that musical giggle and the vivacious personality that his son had been so overwhelmed by. It wasn't long before he was calling his namesake on an a regular basis, requesting that he come over for dinner every weekend, and if he couldn't make it, to send his girlfriend alone. Samantha had inadvertently not only come into Flack's lonely, near pathetic excuse for a life, but she'd managed to do what the rest of the family had struggled to for years. Bring father and son closer together and set them on the road to repairing their relationship.

It had broken her heart when the man she'd been calling dad since the early stages of her relationship with his son, had suddenly turned his back on her shortly after his grandson was born. He had come to see DJ in the hospital. Had become misty eyed when holding his namesake and had even eagerly taken part in the baby's first bath. Once she'd been released from the hospital, her father in law would come over nearly every day to check on things. To make sure that they everyone was doing well and that neither she or DJ were wanting for anything. Slowly she had seen things changing. At first it was the way he'd eye his grandson with his mouth set in a grim line and his blue eyes expressionless. Then it was the way he'd avoid picking DJ up together. And then the inevitable. The visits became further and farther between and eventually none existent.

She hadn't realized until that moment, sitting across from him and sipping her tea, that she had missed him as much as she had. She missed his fatherly hugs and his well intentioned advice. His easy going smile and his corny Irishman jokes and the stories he told over and over again.

But looking at him…that was another story all in itself.

That is what Donnie would have looked like, she thought sadly. If he'd been given the chance to grow old with me.

She took a sip of her beverage and inwardly mused on the fact that she loved to torture herself. That she seemed to get some perverse pleasure out of constantly tearing another strip off of her heart and prolonging her grief for as long as humanly possible. No one in their right mind, while attempting to fall in love and get on with their life one minute, could, in the blink of an eye, resort themselves to dwelling on everything that they'd lost and could never, and would never, recapture again.

Fighting tears, she sighed heavily and drummed her fingers against her mug. The soft clinking of her engagement ring and wedding bang sounding painfully loud in the deafening silence that had descended on the backyard.

She knew -because father and son HAD been so much alike in every possible way- that a stubborn heart and foolish pride would prevent her father in law from making the first step needed to repair their relationship. So it was up to her to put her own pig headed tendencies in order to kick start things.

"So why…" she began.

"I thought we could…" Flack Senior spoke at the same time.

She gave a giggle and blushed slightly. He chuckled and rubbed at the back of his neck, a sheepish look on his face. Then they smiled warmly at one another.

"Ladies first," he implored.

"I was just going to ask you why you decided to come over," she said. "Tonight of all nights. It's been nearly three months since you've stepped foot in my house and you just decided, out of pure coincidence, to come over within hours of your wife's visit?"

"She had told me this morning that she was going to come here and invite you and the baby over for dinner. We've been talking over the last few days and we realized that we hadn't been exactly fair to either of you. We let our own grief for our son cloud our decisions. Instead of being with the two people that were closest to him, we closed ourselves off. And hurt you and DJ in the process."

Sam nodded slowly and stared into the confines of her mug.

"It's just been…" he sighed heavily, mulling the words around in his head. "In all honesty, I've found it difficult to be around the two of you. Especially my grandson."

Sam opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand to halt the words before they could escape.

"Please just give me the chance to explain. I've never been a man for many words. For talking about the things that are bothering me or the things that hurt me. And I've definitely not been the type to apologize for anything I've ever said or done. My wife and my children can attest to that. But I am here because I feel the need to be upfront and honest with you. And I need to do that before that stubborn old bastard part of me kicks into high gear."

She brought her mug to her lips and sipped slowly. Then setting it on the table, brought her feet up to rest on the edge of her chair and then tugged her sweater down over her knees as they lay tight to her chest. "Okay," she said. "I'm listening."

"I'm here on my own. Pat didn't send me here to talk to you. When she came back, nearly spitting quarters and her head nearly spinning around like Linda Blair in The Exorcist, I knew that something must have gone down while she was over here. Now I know that you and my wife have never been the best of friends…"

"Now that's the understatement of the century," Sam mumbled, picking at a loose thread on the bottom of her cardigan.

"…and I know that she's been impossible to get close to, right from day one. And trust me, the entire family, including myself, was on her ass from day one to cut you some slack. But you have to understand…the way she is? That's just Pat's way. She's been like that with every woman Don's had in his life since he was old enough to date. He's her first born. Her pride and joy. All his life from the time he was old enough to walk and talk, he was all about his mother. Then he started getting into girls and well…once she wasn't the apple of his eye anymore, her nose got pushed in."

"He was twenty-seven years old when we met," Sam spoke up. "A grown man. He'd been living on his own since he was seventeen. He'd been making a living and name for himself for years. What he did with his personal life was just that. Personal. And it wasn't my fault she wasn't able to cut the damn apron strings. Just because she carried on this obsession with her own son, didn't mean I deserved to be treated like shit. Or did anyone else that came before me."

"Which is exactly why his previous relationships didn't last longer then a few months," Flack Sr surmised. "All the other women he'd been with weren't strong enough to put up with Pat. They were easily pushed around and manhandled. Got hurt way too easily and backed away."

"Well then obviously these women didn't love your son," Sam concluded. "Because you'll put up with all kinds of insane crap to be with someone if they loved them."

"She'd get pleasure out of seeing his relationships fall apart," he said. "Deep down I think she felt that he'd come running to mommy when things went ass over tea kettle in his life. Except her meddling and nastiness just had the opposite effect. Pushed him farther and farther away from her. And when he brought home a woman that wouldn't let her crash the proverbial party, well that just did her in. When she showed her that you weren't walking away easily and wouldn't give him up without a fight, well she became threatened. And when she's threatened…"

"She becomes the Wicked Witch of Flushing," Sam concluded.

A smirk tugged at Flack Senior's mouth. "My sons used to call her that when they were kids."

"Oh he called her that many a time as an adult, I assure you, " Sam said. "And he always told me that it nearly gave her a stroke when he announced that he was getting married and that he honestly got an insane sense of joy to realize that he'd been able to finally shut her up."

"She knew once he was married, that she was permanently second fiddle in his life."

"Well I hope it makes her happy to know that the only person she hurt by being nasty to me WAS her son. I hope that fills her with the utmost sense of accomplishment to know that she single handily destroyed her relationship with him."

"It is one of her biggest regrets," he sighed.

"Good," Sam said with a firm nod. "Serves her right."

"But you have to understand that he was her son. And when Don died…when he died she lost a huge part of herself."

"We all did," she informed her father in law. "No one got out his death unscathed. And for her to come over here and threaten to have my son taken away from me? Her son's flesh and blood? How does she justify her undying love for her first born? How does she sort it out in her mind that doing something like that wouldn't piss him off? Don was my husband. He is DJ's father. He helped make him. And she has the nerve to come over here and threaten to take the only thing I have left of him away from me?"

"She was just concerned about his well being."

Sam snorted and reached for her mug. "I never, and would never, do anything to hurt my son. DJ is my entire world. And for either of you to come here and down play the loss that I suffered? How? How do either of you have the right to do that? I loved your son. I love him even now. I will always love him. He was my everything. He was…" she choked up, but quickly steeled herself. "I miss him every minute of every day. I would give anything to have him back. To even have one more day with him. To touch his face or kiss his lips or comb my fingers through his hair. To feel his arms around me and his breath against his cheek and his heart beating in his chest. I'd give anything to have Donnie back. But what can I do? There's not enough begging and pleading and praying in the world I can do to make that happen!"

"And I'd give anything in this world to bring him back to you," Flack Senior told him, his voice quiet, blue eyes filled with compassion. "If there was something I could do to make things right, to give you back your husband and give DJ his father, believe me, I would."

"I miss him," Sam said, staring down at her engagement ring as she twirled it around her finger. "There isn't a moment that goes by that I don't miss him. But at the same time…" she sighed. "I need to feel alive again. I have to stop locking myself in the house and letting grief get the better of me. I can't let death win. I can't spend my entire life alone and miserable just because some bitter old bitch thinks that's what I should do. I want someone to love me. I want someone to hold me and kiss me and make me feel human. Say to me, 'hey, you're still here'. I need…I need to feel loved and I need to love someone."

"And by that someone you mean Danny Messer?" he asked curiously.

She sighed heavily and stopped playing with her ring. "Is that why you're really here?" she asked. "To get the scoop on me and Danny?"

"I'm here to talk to you. To hear what's going on from your own mouth," he replied.

"Danny's been spending lots of nights here," she revealed. "For the past year, he's been here more than he has been at his own place. You know that. You know how much he's helped me and has been there for me when everyone else turned their back. And now…and now we've discovered that there's more to us then friendship. That we're feeling things for each other that we never expected to feel. And we realize that it feels really, really good to be with each other. That we make each other happy. For the first time in a year, Danny and I can finally shove all the tears and anger aside and just be happy."

"No one said that you can't be happy," Flack Senior told her. "No one expects you to be alone forever. We knew one day that you'd move on. Make a new life for yourself. We just never expected it to be with our son's best friend."

"And you think I expected that?" she asked. "Do you think that I don't have this massive guilt over the fact that I feel the way I do about Danny? I can't help the way I feel. And I'm not fooling myself into thinking I don't feel it or pushing him away because you and your wife don't approve of my choice in boyfriends."

"Samantha…" he sighed heavily and reached across the table to lay a hand on her knee. "No one is telling you that you can't date whoever you want."

"Danny's a good person," she informed her father in law. "I know that you never liked him. Donnie told me how you hated Danny from the first day they became friends 'cause Danny came from a mobster family. You didn't like him because he wasn't some kid born and bred from NYPD royalty like your own son was. And Don didn't care what you thought about him. Just like I don't. So if you're just here to bad mouth him…"

"I'm here to tell you that I want you to be happy. That if it's Danny who makes you happy, then all the power to you. I just don't want to see you get hurt. That's all. And I especially don't want to see DJ get hurt."

"Danny wouldn't do anything to hurt DJ," she said. "He adores DJ. He's so good with him. I trust Danny with DJ's life. He wouldn't do anything to hurt him."

"Physically, no. But what about emotionally? DJ has already suffered a huge loss. His father died even before he was born. He'll never know his real dad. Say things get serious between you and Danny. Say you even spend a couple of years or longer with him. That DJ begins to refer to him as daddy. And then things don't work out and DJ has the only man he knows as his father ripped out of his life? What do you think that will do to him? What do you think…"

"I think you're getting way too ahead of yourself," Sam interrupted. "Danny and I are dating. We're in a relationship. But we're nowhere near anything remotely close to marriage or anything resembling it. Can't we just spend time together without everyone assuming the worst?"

"You're a mother," Flack Senior reminded her. "And as a mother you need to put your son's best interest first and foremost."

"And as a grandfather you need to back off and realize he's not your child," she snapped.

"Don was my son," he told her angrily. "My namesake!"

"And what did that get him?" she asked. "What did being named after his old man get him? A lot of emotional pain and suffering. He spent years under your shadow! He spent years trying to make a name for himself! He dug his way out from under your name and what did that get him? Did you ever once tell him that you were proud of him? Did you ever once congratulate him on a huge bust? No. All you ever did was shit all over him and tell him what he could have done better. So don't sit here like I'm the one that's betraying him in some way!"

"I never suggested that you…"

"I was the one that was there for him when he needed someone," she said. "I was there when Gerrard and Sinclair were too busy crapping all over him. You were his father and you chose them over him time and time again. And he deserved so much more than that!"

"He told you all of this?"

"He didn't have to tell me. It wasn't hard to figure it out. But he did tell me that there were two things he wanted from you but knew he'd never get. You telling him that you were sorry for the hell you put him through as a kid, and you telling him that you were proud of him. You had so many chances to tell him those things! And now it's too late!" tears spilled free and easy down her face. "Now it's too late."

Flack Senior stared down into the dregs of his coffee cup. Another heavy silence fell upon them. Interrupted every so often as Sam sniffled noisily and her clothes rustled as she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater.

"I'm sorry," she eventually said. "I shouldn't have said all of that. I didn't meant to disrespect you in anyway. But I'll defend Donnie to the death. And I get defensive when I talk about him. He was my husband. And he could be a first class jerk sometimes, but he loved me and I loved him and I wouldn't have changed him for the world. I just wish I got the chance to tell him that instead of making him feel like he didn't quite measure up sometimes."

"There's a lot of things that I wish I could have told him myself," her father in law admitted sadly. "Had I only known that he felt that way. If he just told me…"

"He shouldn't have had to," she said.

Flack Senior sighed heavily and raked his fingers on both hands through his hair. "When Don died…a huge part of me went with him. And I miss him. And I loved him and I'll never…"

Sam glanced across the table as her father in law's words trailed off. Taken back by the tears that sparkled in his eyes.

"I'll never be able to tell him all the things I wanted to say to him," he finished. "And I'll never be able to take back the way I treated him. But I can try and make it up to him through DJ. He's my grandson. The only thing that I have left of my son. And when I think about him being taken away from me…"

"I would never take your grandson away from you," Sam told him. "Just because I move on with my life doesn't mean that DJ stops being your flesh and blood. And I've already vowed that I'll do whatever I have to in order to teach him about his real father. And he needs his grandpa around to do that."

Flack Senior gave a small smile and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. "I miss him," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I miss my son very much. And to have nothing left of him…"

"You have us," Sam told him. "DJ and I."

"I know…I mean to not have anything of him…even a place to go and feel closer to him. That's hard to accept."

She nodded. "I think I can give you something," she said. "Something that will make you feel closer to him. Something that the FBI brought back to me. They caught someone on the internet trying to sell items from the crash on Ebay an they brought me something of Donnie's. If you'd like to have it…"

"I can't take anything of his from you. You were his wife. You're the mother of his child."

"And his child is all I need of him," she said. "For a year, I struggled with accepting that Donnie was really gone. There was the totally irrational part of my brain that was telling me that maybe, just maybe, he was out there somewhere. That they hadn't found anything of him so maybe he never actually got on that plane. That maybe he just took off. Maybe he didn't want to be married anymore. Maybe he just didn't want to be with me. And instead of telling me that, he thought the next best thing would be to take off. A completely insane way of thinking, I know. But there were more moments where the phone would ring and my heart would skip a beat and I would actually convince myself that he was calling me."

"I've had many of those moments myself," Flack Senior admitted. "It was hard convincing myself I wasn't a certified wackadoo."

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "So now I know where Donnie got that from. He was always calling someone a wackadoo. It would make me giggle each and every time he said it. Now I know where he picked it up from."

"Guilty as charge," he said, flashing his dimply smile.

"It was the only way I got through some of the really, really tough days," she said, serious once more. "By telling myself this crazy, cracked up story of how he was never on that plane. I realized I was like that 'cause I'd never gotten proof that he was actually dead. And that I'd never have acceptance or closure without it. Then the FBI shows up on my door step with something of his and it was as if that agent had been send her to give me what I need to go on. Does that make any sense?"

"A hundred percent sense," he assured her.

"And now that I've gotten that sign, that closure…I don't need it anymore. So maybe if I give it to you, it will help you deal with things better."

"Maybe…" he said with a heavy sigh. "All I know is that I need something…anything…to make this pain subside. Even just a little bit."

The baby monitor, resting in the middle of the table, crackled to life. DJ let out one shrill, frustrated cry, then a string of incoherent mumblings.

"He's a ham," Sam laughed. "He's starting to babble a bit now. Just a lot of cooing and sighing and breathy noises. Nothing major. But I like to think he's trying to communicate in his own little way. Would you like to go and see him? I bet he'd like to see his grandpa."

A warm smile spread across her father in law's face. "I'd love to see him," he said.

* * *

They stood next to each other at the side of the crib. A proud mother and grandfather. Tears sparkling in the latter's eyes as he reached into the crib and trailed his hand lightly over the silky black hair that graced his grandson's head.

"He's getting so big," Flack Senior observed, a soft smile gracing his face as he looked down at his precious grandson. As DJ gave a loud gurgle in greeting and then flashed a huge, toothless grin.

"Told you he's a ham," Sam giggled. "He's just like his father. Same personality and everything."

"He looks just like Donnie did when he was a baby," her father in law said. "All that hair and the huge blue eyes. Long, dark eyelashes. People always used to mistake him for a girl 'cause Pat refused to cut his hair. And back then it was really wavy and it flowed over his ears and to his shoulders. I used to curse at her for letting him look like that. I wanted my boy to look like a boy."

"Well trust me, I won't be letting DJ have long, flowing locks," Sam assured him. "It's one thing Don used to complain about when we used to see parents with boys with long hair. He couldn't stand it. He was way too alpha-male to let his son wander around with longer hair then his mother."

Senior chuckled at that. "He's a beautiful baby," he said, his voice a near whisper, tears sparkling in his eyes. "When I look at him…it takes me back. To standing at the side of the crib watching my own boy. I used to…" he cleared his throat noisily and wiped at his eyes with his forearm. "I used to come home from my late shifts and sneak into the nursery. Two thirty in the morning, three o'clock. Even later sometimes. And I'd stand there, still in my uniform, just looking at him. The moonlight would be streaming in the window and he'd be lying there on his back, all spread-eagled. He looked so…peaceful. Angelic. And I used to pray to God to keep him safe. To just hold him in His hands and away from harm. To never, ever let him take after his old man and become a cop."

Sam struggled with her own tears. Touched by her father in law's display of emotion. "Donnie was an amazing cop," she said. "He…he made me proud every time he walked out the door. So proud. And the job meant everything to him and he tried so hard to make this city a better place."

"I didn't want him to be a great cop," Flack Senior told her. "It didn't matter to me if he was a mediocre cop. It was the kind of man…I wanted him to be a great man. That's what mattered the most to me."

"He was a great man," Sam assured her father in law, reaching out to rub his arm softly. "He was…" she sighed heavily and fought to keep herself composed. "He was my everything. He was my sun and my moon and my stars. And he…he touched me in ways that I never thought possible. He made me realize that all men weren't bad. That there were still some good ones out there. He taught me how to love myself and how to love another human being wholly and completely. Unconditionally. Before Donnie came along, I never thought it was possible to love someone like that. And he just…he changed my life. He changed me and I wish I'd gotten the chance to thank him for that. He saved me. In every sense of the word."

Flack Senior nodded slowly.

"I wish you could have known him like I did," she said sadly. "The real him. Not the person he wanted everyone to think he was."

"I wish I could have known him too," her father in law told her. "And that's the one regret that I'll always have. That I never took the time to know my own son. And that just when it seemed like we were really getting somewhere, he was taken away. And not having anything of him…"

"I'll be right back," she said. "I'll go get what I was telling you about earlier. And you know…" she squeezed his arm lightly and smiled down at DJ. "Your grandson doesn't bite. You can pick him up."

A broad grin spread across his face and he reached into the crib. "Come here and see your grandpa," he said, as he gently and effortlessly scooped the baby up into his arms. "Grandpa hasn't seen you in a little while because he's been acting like a stubborn old fart. But he's here now and we can get started on spending lots and lots of time together."

He settled himself in the glider chair by the window as his daughter in law journeyed out of the room. He was in a state of awe and love as he stared down at his grandson. He ran his fingers through DJ's soft hair and traced the baby's eyebrows gently. He dragged a fingertip down the infant's nose and over the full, rosy lips and soft, pudgy cheeks. He touched DJ's ears and his chin and studied his long, slender fingers and toes intently. His mind drifting back to many, many years ago when he sat in a worn out chair in a hospital room, trying to memorize every detail of his own son. He bent down to press a tender kiss to DJ's forehead, then laughed when a hand curled around his nose.

"I should have warned you that he's starting to get a little grabby," Sam said with a laugh, as she returned to the nursery and saw her father in law and son by the window. "Chains, hair. If it's in reach, he's going for it."

"All par for the course with babies," Flack Senior mused, rescuing his nose from his grandson's tight grasp.

"Like I was saying, an FBI agent came here and gave me this. He said that someone picked it up at the crash site and was planning on selling it on Ebay. And I…" she paused as she ran her thumb over the crisp linen handkerchief she was holding. "I was asking for some kind of sign. Some kind of closure. Proof, I guess. And when he gave me this…it was everything that I needed. I want you to have it. I have to think that Donnie sent this to me to help me cope. And now that I've closed that chapter in my life, that he wants me to give it to you to help you do the same thing."

He noticed that her hands were trembling as she held the carefully wrapped object out to him. He could tell, by her solemn expression and tear filled eyes that it was paining her to part with whatever she was now offering to him. "You don't have to do this," he said.

"I do," Sam remained steadfast. "I do. Donnie would want me to do it. He'd want me to do this. Because he always told me how strong I was. That I was the strongest person he knew. And he'd want me to show him just how strong I am. I can't let him down."

Flack Senior nodded, and holding the baby securely around one arm, reached out to take the object from her. Laying it on his thigh, he gently peeled the handkerchief away as his daughter in law dropped to her knees before him and placed a hand on his forearm. His breath caught in his throat, his heart hammered in his chest and tears flooded his vision at the sight of that worn and tattered badge laying before him.

"Please take good care of it," Sam pleaded. "Promise me that one day you'll give it to DJ. That you'll help me teach him about his father. I can't do it on my own. And I'm scared…" she sniffled as tears trickled down her cheeks. "I'm scared that I won't do Donnie justice. Promise you'll help me."

Her father in law nodded slowly, and balancing the badge on his thigh, laid a hand on the side of her face. Using a gentle thumb to clear her tears away, he leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"I won't let my son down," he promised. "Not this time."


	14. Chapter 14

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY DJ. GUS BROUSSARD BELONGS TO THE FABULOUSLY TALENTED MADISON BELLOWS. I CAN'T THANK HER ENOUGH FOR LETTING ME BORROW HER 'BABY'.**

**SO HERE IT IS FOLKS! THE CONTINUATION OF THIS STORY. I WANT TO THANK ALL OF YOU WHO HAVE ADDED ME TO YOUR ALERTS AND FAVS, THOSE WHO HAVE REVIEWED AND THOSE WHO HAVE SENT ME PM'S OF SUPPORT! THIS IS FOR YOU GUYS!**

* * *

**The healing game**

"Hush now don't cry  
Wipe away the teardrop from your eye  
You're lying safe in bed  
It was all a bad dream  
Spinning in your head  
Your mind tricked you to feel the pain  
Of someone close to you leaving the game of life  
So here it is, another chance  
Wide awake you face the day  
Your dream is over...or has it just begun?

I will be watching over you  
I am gonna help you see it through  
I will protect you in the night  
I am smiling next to you...in silent lucidity

If you open your mind for me  
You won't rely on open eyes to see  
The walls you built within  
Come tumbling down, and a new world will begin  
Living twice at once you learn  
You're safe from pain in the dream domain  
A soul set free to fly  
A round trip journey in your head  
Master of illusion, can you realize  
Your dream's alive, you can be the guide."  
-Silent Lucidity, Queensryche

* * *

Yawning noisily, Danny raked his fingers through his hair and then ran his hand down to the back of his neck. Sighing, he closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest and vigorously massaged the aching muscle between his neck and shoulder. It had been an excruciatingly slow night. Ten and a half hours of doing little more than keeping his eyes permanently glued to a microscope as he compared a seemingly endless supply of fabric samples associated with the lone new case the lab had been dispatched to. A teenager found dead by his resident adviser in his dorm room at NYU who bore nothing more than a superficial stab found to his upper left thigh. The weapon - a pair of manicuring scissors with pink plastic handles- had been found resting alongside of him. The vic had been fully clothed and the room hadn't been tossed and there were no other visible signs of trauma. The scissors themselves had easily been traced back, via CODIS, to a fellow NYU student that the vic had put the moves on while he was supposed to be tutoring her. A young lady already in the system for an assault charge two years prior. Apparently she carried the scissors in her pencil case for protection and when the dirt bag had initiated some extra curricular activities, she'd made him regret it right quick. Then she'd hauled ass on out of there. As witnessed by three dorm mates and the surveillance cameras.

Autopsy had showed cardiac arrest and scalding to the victim's lips, tongue, roof of the mouth, oesophagus and stomach by a yet to be determined noxious substance. A hold up in toxicology had resulted in an on going wait to determined what the young man had either willingly drank, or had been forced to consume. Mac had opted to wait it out and handle whatever was tossed his way. If assistance was desperately needed, he'd call Hawkes back in or even Stella, who was back in the city but along with Adam, scheduled for another day off. He'd thanked Danny for putting in the insane and inhumane hours he'd logged in the past month alone, and then sent him on his way with a strict order to get some sleep.

Sleep would be nice, Danny thought, as he opened his eyes and pushed his glasses up further onto his nose. Couple days worth is right up my alley, actually. Just crawl into bed, bury my face in a pillow and hide out under the covers. Not have any cares in the world save for myself and that woman that's lying next to me.

And the little guy of course.

A smile crossed his face as he thought of his godson and the changes that had taken place almost overnight. He was falling in love again. No doubt about it. He wasn't quite there yet- he couldn't openly admit that he was wildly and crazily in love with her- but he was falling hard and fast. It wasn't a 'rebound' thing. He wasn't convincing himself that he was feeling things because he was tired of being alone and wanted something to fill that gaping hole in his chest that Lindsay's death had left behind. Trust was, the hole would never completely mend. There'd always be a part that would never cover up. He'd always love her and miss her and wonder what if. But now there was someone else in her life. A beautiful, amazing woman that was still healing herself as she helped heal him. It felt…long term. And there was no way in hell was going to screw that up.

And DJ…he loved that little boy. And while he'd never be his real father, Danny was determined to do the right thing with that kid. Out of respect for Flack, he was going to be there. For every first that happened in the baby's life. For every milestone and every disappointment. For all of the smiles and all the laughter and all of the tears. DJ would have a dad. Someone to love him and care for him and guide him. Someone that would teach him all about the man who'd helped give him life. Danny would make sure that Flack's memory was all around. That his son would know what an amazing person he had been. Not just an incredible cop, but a phenomenal man who'd loved his wife and his unborn child.

* * *

"Long night, huh?"

Danny glanced over at the man that suddenly appeared beside him. He hadn't been able to get much of a glimpse of Nick Stokes' skills as a crime scene investigator. The newbie had been relegated to alternating his time between trace and the beleaguered AV lab. Every time Adam was off, the AV lab went down the complete shitter. Less experienced techs either ran around in circles trying to figure out what the hell they were doing, sat around with their thumbs up their asses too scared to ask for help, or pretended they knew what they were doing and in the end completely fucked things up. It was amazing how much one could actually miss Adam Ross. And it wasn't just because the kid was a damn genius. When Adam wasn't around, you found yourself missing that wild head of hair and the 'just rolled out of bed, hung over frat boy' look and the incessant, often annoying rambling. Adam was a hell of a guy. A little on the socially awkward side, but an amazing friend and a valued, respected and trusted colleague. Danny had never known the depth of Adam's compassion and sensitivity until Flack had died. Seeing him, a rock for his grieving, emotionally distraught and nearly suicidal sister and witnessing the way he handled her so tenderly during her toughest, darkest days…

Danny would never forget seeing that side of Adam for as long as he lived.

And he would never take the lab tech's presence for granted again.

"Slow night," Danny responded to Nick's comment. "Very, very, very slow."

"Here I was thinking once I came to the city that never sleeps, that it would…well, never sleep," Nick gave a chuckle. "There a lot of nights like this or…"

"Hardly ever," Danny said, shifting his knapsack from one shoulder to the other. "Nights like that? Rare. Very rare. We relish them when they come along 'cause we know that the next night? Next night we're gonna get slammed. It'll be case after case and we won't have time to scratch our asses let alone get a proper break. I hope you enjoyed your shift, 'cause you ain't gonna be getting many like that."

"How many quiet shifts you reckon you've had since you've been on the job?" Nick asked curiously.

"Since I started workin' for Mac?" Danny shrugged. "I think I can count the slow and easy ones on one hand."

"I'm looking forward to the pace picking up," the Texan admitted. "I'm not the type of guy that can't just sit around doing nothing. I wanna be out there, on the streets, getting my fix, you know? It's one of the reasons why I jumped on the chance to come here. A complete change of pace. And scenery. The Vegas lights?" he sighed. "Let's just say they dimmed for me a long time ago."

Danny nodded understandingly. "Well here's hopin' the lights of Broadway burn bright for a long, long time for you."

Nick smiled.

Danny sighed and reached out to jam his index finger against the down button. "As you can tell…" he grumbled, as he pressed the button over and over again. "Elevators are just as slow as our shift was. Only they're like this nine times out of ten."

"Pain in the ass," Nick commented. "Say…you doing anything? I know it's been a long, painfully slow night and all and you probably just want to get the hell out of here and home to hit the hay, but I'm starving. I could go for some bacon and eggs and hash browns. Maybe even some pancakes. It's the one thing I miss about Vegas. We used to go out to breakfast together a lot. Gave us all time to unwind, talk about our cases, just shoot the shit."

"We don't do a lot of that around here," Danny said. "Well, maybe not the breakfast thing. There's a bunch of us that like to go out to this cop bar Sullivan's and do the JD and Coke and pitcher of beer and shoot some pool thing, though. Hasn't been much of that in the past year though. Since Flack died."

"He was the life of the party, huh?"

"I don't know if he was the life of the party. Flack was more the get drunk and get all sentimental and spill all his dirty secrets and regrets while bawling on your shoulder type. You want an emotional Flack? Want him to get all poetic about his wife? Liquor him up and sit back and wait for it to unfold."

Nick laughed.

"He is…was…crazy about her. I was friends with Flack for a long time. And when he met her…I'd never seen him like that before. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. He would have taken a bullet for her. She is…was…his entire world. His existence. What got him through the day. And she was equally nuts about him. Once she gave him the time of day that was."

Nick arched a quizzical eyebrow.

"She played hard to get," Danny explained. "For a long time. Flack never gave up. He was damn determined to land her. All that persistence finally paid off in the end. And then just like that…" Danny's voice trailed off and he cleared his throat noisily.

"Were they married long?" Nick asked.

"Eight months. Wish I could say they had more time than that."

"Must have been tough for her," the other man mused.

"It was. It still is. She still loves him and misses him. She probably always will. But she was fortunate enough to get a permanent reminder of him. Something she can hold onto for forever. That she'll look at every day and think of him."

"Which is…"

"She was two and a half months pregnant when he died," Danny explained. "Little guy is just shy of four months old now. He's damn adorable. Head full of black hair and these huge blue eyes. Looks just like his old man. Drives her nuts hearing that all the time."

Nick smiled. "That must have been tough. Losing her husband so suddenly and tragically and barely pregnant at the time."

Danny nodded. "They had their first ultrasound just days before the crash. Flack was over the moon about being a daddy. He was like this little kid on Christmas morning that couldn't wait to dive into all of his presents. It was hilarious, actually. Flack was never like that about anything. And here he was, with this massive shit eating 'hey, guess what I did' grin on his face, shoving the ultrasound pics under everyone's noses. He was proud…" shaking his head, he sighed heavily. "So proud."

Nick gave a solemn nod. "What's the baby's name?" he asked.

"DJ. Donald Joseph Flack the Third, actually. Everyone just calls him DJ. He's a cutie. She's going a hell of a job takin' care of him on her own. Lots of people around that love that little guy. That love both of them. We're all keeping a close eye on them, making sure they're alright. It's what Flack wanted. Someone around to take care of things if something happened to him. Soon as he got married, he was thinking like that. He wanted to make sure that she was going to be okay without him. Mind you, he always thought if something happened to him it would on the job, you know?"

"And how is she doing?" Nick asked. "Without him? Is she doing okay?"

"She's getting there," Danny replied. Then gave a small laugh. "Sorry 'bout talking your ear off like that. Sometimes I get started and can't stop. Especially when I'm tired…and what the hell is taking these pieces of shit so long?"

"Would have been quicker to take the stairs," Nick laughed.

Danny nodded in agreement, then breathed a sigh of relief when the chime sounded to announce the arrival of the elevator. "About fucking time…" he muttered, stepping aside as passengers began to pile out. "Adam!" he called out at the sight of the familiar face before it could blend into the crowd.

"Danny!" the lab tech shouted back, then pushed his way through the swarm, a messenger style bag slung across his body and a parcel wrapped in brown paper in his hands. "Glad I managed to catch up to you before you left," he said, as he joined the two men.

"Take a ride with us, buddy," Danny instructed, slipping through the elevator door as it began to close. "So I don't get even more grey hair waiting for the damn elevator all over again," he said, as he laid a finger on the 'open' button. "What are you doing here?" he asked, hitting the button for the first underground parking level after Adam and Nick joined him in the elevator. "Thought you were off until tomorrow."

"Mac called me late last night and asked me to come in," Adam told him. "Honestly, I could have used the extra day off. But I could use the money a hell of a lot more."

"How'd it go in Virginia?" Danny asked.

Adam shrugged. "It went," he replied. "You wouldn't be heading over to my sister's some time today, would you?"

"I might be heading that way to do a few things for her. Why?"

"My mom sent this to my place," Adam nodded down at the parcel. "I guess it's some kind of care package for DJ. And seeing as Sam still won't return any of her calls or emails and sends the regular letters back with return to sender written on them, I guess she figured sending it to me was the best idea. I was going to head to Queens this afternoon but seeing as I have to work and you might get there before me…"

"I'll make sure it gets there," Danny promised and took the package from the younger man. "And make sure you tell that old bitch that she's got some major ass kissing to do if she ever wants to see her daughter and her grandson again."

"Want her phone number to call her yourself?" Adam asked. "She's terrifying," he quickly explained when Danny stared at him, eyebrows arched.

"Don't be such a cupcake," Danny said in response. "Nick, this is lab rat extraordinaire Adam Ross. Adam, this is our new guy, Nick Stokes."

"From Vegas," Adam acknowledged and offered his hand. "Danny's understating by the way. I'm not just lab rat extraordinaire. I'm actually the guy who keeps this place running like a well oiled machine."

Danny snorted. "Adam's Flack's brother in law," he told Nick.

The Texan nodded and warmly shook the head offered to him. "You're married to his sister or…"

"He's married to my sister," Adam clarified. "Well…he was."

"And lucky for Flack, the two Ross' look nothing alike," Danny attempted to lighten the solemn mood.

"That's 'cause I got all the looks and all of the brains," Adam quipped.

"On some far off distant planet where falling out of the ugly tree and hitting every branch on the way down is a common occurrence," Danny teased. "How goes things with Gus?"

"They go," Adam told him. "And very well I may add. At least ninety nine percent of the time."

"What about the other one percent?" Nick asked, clearly amused by the lab tech.

"The one percent is Gus trying to figure out why in the hell she's with this tool," Danny joked, nudging Adam playfully with his elbow.

"Actually," Adam said, blushing slightly. "The other one percent is me wondering what in the hell someone like she sees in someone like me."

"Adam's girl Augusta Broussard is Mac's niece," Danny told Nick. "On his deceased wife Claire's side. We call her Gus or Gussie. She's originally from New Orleans and came here after Katrina. She took Flack's place after he died. Well, technically Detective Angell…Jess…took his place and Gussie took hers. She's awesome. Amazing cop. Hell of a lot of fun to work with."

"And not to mention smoking hot," Adam added, a huge, proud grin on his face.

"Which is why no one can understand what the hell she's doing with him," Danny said. "Ask me, she needs to see a department shrink. Have someone give her head a shake."

"You are just jealous she's with me and not with you," Adam declared. "And what is up with the glasses? In with the new and out with the old? Or in your case in with the old and out with new?"

"What is it with you people?" Danny asked. "I need to give some sort of explanation to why I've gone back to wearing my glasses?"

"Just curious is all," the lab tech replied. "You haven't worn them in so long and then all of a sudden…"

"I got tired of wearing contacts, okay? They were starting to bug my eyes. Dry them out and shit. So I decided to go back to the glasses. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Chill out…" Adam held us hands up in surrender. "Just asking…"

"Never realized my personal appearance was such a popular topic of discussion around here," Danny grumbled.

"Personally, we were all hoping you'd go back to the glasses," Adam admitted. "If you ask me, you're much more dashing with them."

The CSI frowned and punched the younger man in the shoulder. "Don't make me lay a smack down on you, Adam. You're giving me the creeps with all of your blatant come on's lately."

"Oh yes…that's what I've been doing…" Adam batted his eyelashes flirtatiously and puckered his lips. "I'm attempting to come on to you 'cause you are just so my type. You just do something for me. You know, the badge, the gun, that whole wounded little boy trying to be a bad ass. That Kevlar you're sometimes sporting."

Nick laughed heartily as Danny glared at the lab tech.

"You're goddamn lucky I know you're joking," Danny said, as the elevator shuddered to a stop at the underground parking.

Adam chuckled, then gave a seductive pout as the doors opened and Danny went to step off the elevator. "How you do you know I'm joking, big boy?" he asked, then blew the CSI a kiss just as the doors began to slide shut.

"Cupcake!" Danny yelled, then smirked at the sound of Adam's hysterical laughter as the doors finally closed and the elevator began its slow ascent towards the thirty-fifth floor.

* * *

"Seems like a nice guy," Nick commented, as he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the keys to his vehicle. Just a rented sedan for the moment. Until he had time to go out and buy or lease something of his own.

"Adam's a great guy," Danny said, nodding his appreciation as Nick used his hip to push open the door that lead out into the lot and motioned for Danny to go first. "A little on the weird side, but an amazing scientist. He's our AV specialist. There's nothing that kid can't do with a computer. The lab would seriously be lost without him. Mac's grooming him for bigger and better things. He's got him out in the field more and more now. Hoping that Adam will fall in love with being out in the action and come to him asking to be a CSI."

"Think it will happen?" Nick asked.

"Who knows," Danny shrugged. "Hawkes was our ME before he became a CSI. So I guess if he can do it, so can Adam. The rest of us are sworn officers within the department. We all went through the academy after getting our degrees and did our time as uniforms. I do not miss those days, let me tell ya. Pretty soon we'll be back up to full strength and Mac won't have to use the Jersey CSI's anymore. Once Samantha comes back, things will go back to normal. Routine. It'll be nice to have the team together again."

"Samantha?" Nick asked curiously.

"Flack's wife," Danny replied, as he stopped at the back driver's side door of his SUV. Balancing the parcel between the vehicle and his body, he fished his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. "They met on the job. She came here from the Phoenix Crime Lab a few years back now. She's a hell of a CSI. Tiny little thing but feisty as all hell. Brooklyn girl. And they're something else, I'll tell you. She's coming back in a few weeks. She's been off a long while now. That's her office you'll be sharing."

"Makes me nervous," Nick admitted. "Here I am, new guy in town, invading her space. I don't want her thinking I'm trying to take anyone's place."

"Sammie's not like that," Danny assured him, as he yanked the door open and laid the package on the back seat. "She's pretty welcoming. She's the type that believes there's good in everyone and that everyone deserves a chance. Just don't piss her off and you'll be alright. Don't get in the way of her first tea of the morning and her chocolate croissant and one strawberry frosted pop tart and you'll be okay."

Nick laughed at that.

"I'm not joking," Danny said and shut the door. "For as long as I've worked with her, she's ate the same thing every morning for breakfast. And if she doesn't get it…look out. She's going all Brooklyn bitch on you. And trust me, that's not a pretty sight."

"I'll remember those words of wisdom," Nick promised. "So you feel like grabbing some breakfast or…"

"I really need to get over to S…" Danny caught himself before her name slipped out of his mouth. "I really got to get over to my girl's," he said. "She's expecting me and…"

"No worries," the other man said. "Maybe some other time."

"Maybe," Danny nodded. "You on nights again tomorrow?" he asked, as he unlocked the driver's door.

Nick nodded. "I've got tonight off. But I've got to come back some time in the afternoon and fill out some papers for my employee file and all of that. And have my shooting proficiency test."

"Good luck with that," Danny said, as the new CSI began to walk away. "See you tomorrow, Stokes."

"Later," Nick gave a wave over his shoulder. "Nice meeting ya."

"You too," Danny called out, and watched the other man as he crossed the underground lot.

_Nice enough guy, _he thought, then climbed behind the wheel of his SUV.

_But he's definitely gonna take some getting used to._

* * *

It hadn't been a good twelve and a half hours.

After her father in law had left, she'd felt emotionally drained and had wanted to do nothing more than crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and have a long, gut wrenching cry that would leave her exhausted and send her quickly and easily off to sleep. But real life had real priorities. She simply couldn't just wallow in a state of self pity. There was a baby to feed and bathe. Bottles that had to be sterilized and filled with expressed milk and put into the fridge. Three loads of laundry to wash, dry and fold. Her nerves were frayed. The heart to heart with Flack Senior had been like pouring peroxide on an open, festering wound. It hadn't been the therapeutic moment she had desperately hoped for. And while giving her dead husband's badge away had, at the time, helped her to shed a thousand ton weight from her shoulders, it now left her desperate to regain that small part of his life back. She fought the urge to call her in laws and tell them that she'd made a mistake. That she wanted that badge back. As if that chipped and damaged piece of metal was the life vest keeping her afloat. When she held it in her hands, her heart felt full again. Her sanity in tact. And now that it was gone, the grief returned with a vengeance.

She'd vainly kept herself busy to prevent herself from sinking further into despair. Working herself into a state of exhaustion before finally heading upstairs shortly before midnight. She'd taken a shower, letting the hot water beat down on her attacking back and shoulders and her throbbing head. Then, after she'd towelled off, she'd stood in her pyjamas at the side of her empty bed, her hair still damp and her chest aching with insurmountable anguish. She didn't want to sleep there. She didn't want to crawl into that bed. Because she knew the moment her head hit that pillow, she'd be consumed with thoughts of her old life. Of sharing that very bed with the man who had promised her forever and who hadn't been able to keep that promise. And that thought angered her. She was hurt and bitter. She was mad at him for leaving her when there had been so much for them to share. For capturing her heart nearly four years ago and never giving it back. For taking it somewhere that was unreachable.

"I hate you," she'd whispered in a cold, harsh voice that had shocked her. And when the weight of those three simple words hit her with full force, she'd collapsed onto the bed and buried her face in his pillow and begged for forgiveness.

Afterwards, when her tears had run dry and her lungs ached as she tried to draw breath, she rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She'd wondered when the moments of rage would end. When she'd stop being so angry at him for leaving her. When she'd finally accept her lot in life and close one book in favour of starting another.

For an hour and a half she'd laid in the middle of the bed before a fitful sleep had finally claimed her.

She'd bolted awake from a nightmare -one that she never remembered upon waking but always left her shaking and gasping for breath and in a state of sheer terror- at quarter after four in the morning. The lights in the bedroom still blazing brightly.

And the sheets next to her still cold and empty.

She'd padded into the bathroom and fetched herself a glass of water and an anti-anxiety pill. And instead of returning to that bed, she'd stripped off the comforter and grabbed her pillow and carried them out of the room and down the hall to the spare bedroom. Where Danny's scent still lingered on the pillows and the sheets.

Where she didn't feel so alone.

* * *

It was in that spare bedroom where she found herself, on her left hand side facing the window, stirring to the sound of rustling sheets and the mattress moving beneath her. She was aware of the distinct masculine scent of the Axe body wash that she kept on a shelf in the shower in the main bathroom. Of a hint of the mint toothpaste that she kept for visitors on the sink. And she felt a strong, large hand travel slowly along the length of her arm. Starting at her wrist and moving up to her shoulder and then sliding back down again before an arm sneaked around her waist and she found herself pulled back against a warm, comforting body.

She gave a sigh of contentment and without opening her eyes, ran her finger tips along the top of his hand before entwining their fingers together and leaning the back of her head against his face.

"Quiet morning at the old homestead," Danny commented, breathing in the scent of her vanilla honey shampoo as he buried his lips in her hair.

"DJ was up at seven for something to eat," Sam told him. "He went back to bed at eight."

"He's a growing boy. Needs all the food and all the sleep he can get,"

"So what's your excuse for needing all the sleep and food you can get?" she asked with a quiet giggle.

"It is way too early for you to be a smart ass," Danny chuckled.

"It has to be at least ten," Sam said.

"Ten minutes to," he told her.

"That's hardly early," she informed him. "How was work?"

"Long and extremely boring. Excruciatingly slow. Which is why I can't understand why I'm so tired."

"Emotional exhaustion," she reasoned. "We haven't had the easiest of days lately."

"The easiest of years," he said with a sigh. "You sleep good last night?"

She shook her head. "Don's dad stopped by," she told him. "We had a long talk. Cleared the air about a lot of things."

"Well that's good, right? You had a lot of things to get off of your chest. You probably feel a hundred pounds lighter."

She nodded in agreement. Then sniffled noisily. "It wasn't a good night," she admitted, her voice threatening to break. "It was a horrible night, actually."

"How horrible?" he asked, tightening his hold on her. He lightly draped a leg over her calf and reached up with his free hand to stroke her hair.

"Talking about Donnie just made things worse. I thought for sure that I'd feel so much better afterwards, but it just made the pain so bad, Danny. It just made me hurt so bad. And it made me so angry."

"Angry at Flack?"

She nodded. "I'm angry that he left me. Angry that he left me to take care of his son on my own. He promised me forever. We were suppose to be a team. It was suppose to be me and him. And it's not. He broke that promise to me and I'm so…I'm so pissed off at him."

"That's normal," Danny assured her. "Remember what that department chaplain told us about the different stages of grief? He said that anger was one of them. So it's alright that you feel that way. I was angry at Lindsay for the longest time. I even swore up and down that I hated her a few times."

"You did?" she asked with a sniffle.

He nodded. "Lots of times, actually. I'd get into of my ranting and raving moods. I'd toss things around the house and scream about how much I hated her for leaving me. And then afterwards I'd feel like the biggest prick in the world and worry about whether or not she'd forgive me for saying something like that."

"I do hate Donnie sometimes," Sam admitted. "And I don't want to…and I don't actually mean it…"

"Of course you don't. You're just shattered, Sammie. And we say things we don't mean when we're heartbroken."

"I just…I'm tired of feeling this way, Danny. I'm tired of being happy and upbeat one minute and sad the next. I'm tired of blaming him for something that wasn't his fault. And I'm tired of only thinking about all of the bad things instead of just focusing on all of the good times we had together."

"All of that will pass, Sammie," he promised. "One day you're going to wake up and not hurt so bad anymore. I swear to you that that will happen. That these mood swings and this pain…it's going to subside. It may never go away completely, but it will get easier to bear."

"I feel like I'm disrespecting you, though," she said, as she let go of his hand. "Disrespecting us."

"Why would you feel like that?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before she rolled over to face him.

"Because here we are, in a relationship and going on with our lives together. Here we are lying in a bed together and I'm bitching and moaning about how pissed off I am at my dead ex husband and talking about how much I miss him. And that doesn't seem fair to you."

"You don't think I understand how much you miss Flack? How much you still love him? You don't think that I 'get' that. He was your husband, Sammie. I don't expect you to just up and forget about just 'cause you and I are having a thing."

"Having a thing?" she arched and eyebrow. "How romantic is that?"

"You know what I mean. You also know I'm not that great with the whole sweet, poetic words. You and Linds used to get a kick out of how…what was it that you guys used to say about me?…how verbally impotent I was."

She laughed at that and rested the tip of her nose against his. "Owww…" she complained, when her forehead collided with something hard. "What in the hell…?"

"I went home and found something just for you," he said with a grin.

"Your glasses?" she beamed brightly and peeled them gently off of his face. "Be still my heart."

"Just for you," he told her, and kissed her softly. "But you owe me. I went through the third degree at least five times last night about why I went back to wearing my glasses. Just so you know, I kind of let it slip to Hawkes that I had a girl."

"What did he say?" she asked, as she folded his glasses and laid them between their pillows.

"I didn't tell him who it was," Danny replied, and wrapping his arm around her, pulled her tight against him. "I just told him that I was seeing someone. He said he was happy for me. That he was glad to see that I was going on with my life and he hoped that I was happy."

"And are you?" she inquired, as she combed her fingers through his short hair.

"Very," he assured her. "Are you?"

She gave a soft smile and nodded.

"I told Mac though. About us. That it was you that I was with."

Her eyes widened.

"He's cool with it. He doesn't see a problem with us being together. And to be honest, Mac was the person that worried me the most. He always had that sort of father, daughter thing going on with Lindsay and I was nervous about how he'd take the news that not only was I wish someone else, but that the someone else was her best friend."

"A lot of people aren't going to be as understanding," she said.

"That makes you nervous?"

"A little," she admitted. "It doesn't change my decision about getting involved with you or change the way I feel about you. It just…freaks me out a bit."

He nodded and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. "Me too," he said. "So you know what that means, right?"

She shook her head.

"We can be nervous wrecks together."

She gave a small laugh and laying a hand on the back of his neck, pulled him into a long, sizzling kiss. As her tongue aggressively pushed its way into his mouth and found his, his fingers buried in her hair and his other hand slid down to cup her ass, yanking the lower part of her tightly against his. She moaned as she felt the tip of his tongue trail along the roof of her mouth, then found herself pushed gently over onto her back.

"You alright?" Danny asked, his fingertips drifting along her jaw as his body, propped on his elbow, loomed above hers. "With this?"

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. She was worried that he'd see how badly she was shivering and put a halt to any further intimacy.

"Don't be scared," he whispered, running his thumb along her cheek. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'll take things nice and slow. We do things at your pace, alright? If you're not comfortable or you're not liking something, you just tell me. Okay?"

"Okay…" she said, and then relaxed at the tender smile he gave her.

"You want to stop, you just say something. We're not going to do anything that you're not ready to do. You want me to stop, I'll stop. You want me to…"

She raised her head and kissed him. "I'm not going to want you to stop," she told him.

He nodded slowly, then covered her mouth with his in a slow yet passionate kiss. His hand roamed her body as his tongue explored her mouth. He heard her soft sigh and felt her nails dig into the back of his neck when his lips left hers and found her smooth, slender neck. He felt her shudder when his hand drifted up the front of her pyjama top and his fingers grazed along her stomach and up her side. Her hand was tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt as his thumb glided across her nipple. Her breath hitched at the sensations that surged through her. It had been more than a year since a man had touched her in an intimate way. She had missed it. And while the mouth that was travelling her body and the hand that was teasing her was unfamiliar, it felt so good.

It made her feel sexy and wanted.

And alive.

"Everything's going to be okay…" Danny whispered, his warm, moist mouth against her fluttering stomach as his hands tugged her pyjama bottoms over her ass and her hips. "Look at me Sammie…"

Her eyes flickered open. Golden brown met vibrant blue.

"It's going to be okay…you're going to be okay…" he promised.

She managed a nod and closed her eyes once again. Her hands tightly gripping the sheets below her as she felt the satin of her bottoms slip down her legs. Her body tingling as his fingertips lightly skimmed the inside of her thighs.

"Just trust me," he said, then lowered his head and began to use his tongue to lap slowly and lazily at her. To give her a pleasure she had so desperately missed.

It had been just over a year since someone had wanted her.

Three hundred and sixty seven days since she'd given herself to someone. Since she'd fully and completely trusted a man.

And at that moment, she felt her heart and soul slowly begin to mend.

* * *

**I hope that you guys are going to enjoy this story now that the new stuff is underway! I've got lots of plans for it and I hope you all come along for the ride! Please R and R folks!**


	15. Chapter 15

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY DJ.**

**A/N: I WANT TO EXTEND A HUGE THANK YOU TO ELPHENA LEWIS. IT IS BECAUSE OF HER AND A WONDERFUL PRIVATE MESSAGE SHE SENT ME A LITTLE WHILE BACK THAT ENCOURAGED ME TO REPOST AND CONTINUE ON WITH THIS STORY. I FEEL BAD THAT I DIDN'T THANK HER LAST CHAPTER, SO I HOPE SHE REALIZES HOW MUCH I APPRECIATED HER KIND WORDS AND ALL OF HER SUPPORT!**

**ITALICS INDICATE A FLASHBACK**

* * *

**The moments after: Then and Now**

"Now nothing can take you away from me  
We've been down that road before  
But that's over now  
You keep me coming back for more  
Baby you're all that I want  
When you're lying here in my arms  
I'm findin' it hard to believe  
We're in heaven

And love is all that I need  
And I found it there in your heart  
It isn't too hard to see  
We're in heaven

Oh - once in your life you find someone  
Who will turn your world around  
Bring you up when you're felling down

Ya - nothin' could change what you mean to me  
Oh there's lots that I could say  
But just hold me now  
'Cause our love will light the way."  
-Heaven, Bryan Adams

* * *

Prior to meeting -and eventually sleeping with- her husband, Samantha had never been good at the whole 'morning after' thing. Not that she had a lot of previous experience, considering she'd only had two serious boyfriends - one of them being her ex fiance and live in for nearly four years Zack- in her entire life. Dating and sex had never been her main priorities in life. The abuse and sheer torment that her birth father had put Adam and her through for years had turned her off of men. She didn't trust them and didn't want to be nothing but an empty relationship to someone and just a notch on their bedpost.

She had, at an early age, thrown herself into her schooling. Instead of going to friends houses after classes or hanging out at the mall of weekends or attending parties, she instead spent her free time studying and taking care of Adam. Five years his senior, she had long felt as if she was his mother. She was the one that he ran to in the middle of the night when a thunder storm or a nightmare woke him up. She was the one that got up in the morning with him and made him breakfast. Who prepared and packed his lunch for school. Who helped him with his homework and who he made crafts for. It wasn't To Mommy, Love Adam written on the works of art he brought home. It was To Sammie, Love Peanut. She was the person he sought solace in when he was picked on by the other kids. Who cleaned his skinned knees and kissed his tears away and who tended to his injuries and his battered sole after their father unleashed beatings on him.

Her life, from the time she was old enough to remember, had revolved around Adam. He was her baby brother, yet she loved him as if he were her own child. While her parents spent their days in alcohol and drug induced stupors -she couldn't remember a time her father held down a job for more then a few weeks at a time, but could easily remember cowering in a closet with Adam when the bookies and dealers came looking for money their dad owed them- she made sure that Adam was well fed, that he was brushing his teeth and cleaning himself, that he was keeping up on his school work and making sure that his room was tidy. Even as a teenager, she was taking her brother to the movies and to the library and the zoo. She catered to his every whim in hopes that he cherished their time together and that when he grew up, he'd remember their moments together before he remembered what their father had done to them.

Getting involved with boys, even if she had been willing to trust them with her heart, had been the last thing on Samantha's mind. She simply hadn't had the time to be anyone's girlfriend. And while it had broken her heart to leave her brother behind when she went to school, she was also immensely relieved at the same time. She had devoted so much to Adam, that she'd ignored herself. He was in good hands. Their father had simply just upped and disappeared one night when she was sixteen and Adam was eleven. At first they'd thought nothing of it. It wasn't unusual that their father disappeared for days, often weeks on end. In fact, as kids they relished the time he was gone because it meant while their mother was still passed out and incapable of properly taking care of them, they were at least safe from beatings and name calling. They had been waiting nervously for their father's return, knowing that when he got back it would most likely be in a mean, foul mood, when their mother had announced that it was just the three of them now. Dad wasn't coming back. Ever.

Neither Sam or Adam had known exactly what she had meant. Gone as in permanently? As in still alive but never coming back? Or as in dead and rotting in hell where he belonged? They'd never asked and even as adults, had no clue if their dad was actually still alive somewhere out there. Adam had fought temptation several times to run their old man's name through the NYPD data base. Chances were, if the man was alive, he was most likely in jail. But they'd never sought him out and very rarely gave him a second thought. He was gone and that was good enough for them.

Their mother had met and married -they'd always assumed their parents had been married, but mom's quickie marriage to their step father had proved them wrong- their step father only three months after their father walked out. Six weeks later the entire family was being uprooted to Phoenix. The tremendous weight that had been placed on Sam's shoulders slowly began to lift. Adam flourished under their step father's protective, loving yet stern wing. And when it had been time for her to go to university, as much as it hurt her to leave her Peanut behind, she knew that he was in good hands.

It was in university that she'd had her first real boyfriend. A senior she'd met at a campus party and whom she'd fallen quickly and easily in love with. He'd been her first of many things and after he'd graduated, they'd attempted a long distance relationship when he went home to California to work at his daddy's law firm. Six months into it, he'd sent her a letter telling her that he was getting married. In a week.

After that, she'd been devastated and her trust in men had been seriously demolished yet again. She'd concentrated solely on her studies and after achieving her masters, went back home to Arizona. Adam by that time, had gone back to New York City and was on the dean's honour list at Columbia. Sam enrolled in the Phoenix PD academy, and graduating near the middle of the class, worked as a uniform for a year before taking the CSI exam and accepting a position at the Phoenix lab.

And then she met Zack. Handsome and charming, the state trooper had torn down the walls she'd built up around herself. Before long they were engaged and living together. And in a blink of an eye, he'd gone from Prince Charming to her worst nightmare. It had been Zack, with his controlling, abusive ways that had caused her to flee Phoenix and seek shelter with her brother in New York. She hadn't been expecting to be there long term. She'd simply wanted a safe haven to escape to until she made up her mind on where she wanted to go with her life. Fate however, had begun to conspire against her. An opening at Adam's work had her having an interview, sneakily arranged by Adam, with Mac Taylor. That interview had turned into a job offer and three days later, she found herself a member of the NYPD.

And on the radar of a very persistent, pig headed homicide detective.

Don Flack Junior simply didn't take no for an answer. No matter how polite or mean she was when she was saying it. And for nearly a year he'd buttered her up with endless compliments, had shown up time and time again at her office with lunch or dinner he'd picked up for her - "I was out grabbing something and I just figured you'd be starving so I thought I'd be the nice guy and pick you up something"- and had even resorted to, just as her will power began to crumble, sending her flowers. Finally she'd agreed to a date. By that time she was sick of being alone and sick of trying to deny her feelings for him. He was definitely her type. Tall and dark and exceptionally handsome. She liked his aggressive, assertive demeanour. She was attracted to his street smarts and his take no shit attitude and how he wasn't scared of anyone. How he was so quick to defend his friends and how loyal he was to the job. How he could make her laugh even on the toughest days with a well placed sarcastic comment.

Most of all, she loved his smile. He had a wicked smile that crinkled the corners of his incredible blue eyes and dimpled his left cheek. And it made her weak in the knees each and every time he unleashed it on her.

Don had come into her life at a time when she'd needed someone the most. When she had lost all hope that someone could ever love her as is. That someone could accept all of the issues and baggage that she brought to the table. He had, while relentlessly pursuing her, shown her that he was one of the good guys. That she could trust him. That he wasn't out to hurt her. And by the end of that first date, she was convinced that he was a long term thing. He made her feel good about herself. He made her feel confident and beautiful and sexy and it had been a long time since anyone had made her feel that way.

She had been three days shy of her thirty second birthday the night that she'd invited her into her apartment following their second date. He'd taken her to a hockey game. The New York Rangers versus the New Jersey Devils. He was a die hard Rangers fan and she was obsessed with the Devils. Most of the night, in between drinking beer and eating junk food while sitting in their outrageously expensive seats behind the Rangers bench, had been spent tossing sexual innuendos back and forth and teasing each other over their choices in hockey teams. Several times he'd either draped his arm across the back of her seat or lean in close to nudge her playfully with his elbow. Four times she'd thought that he was going to kiss her. A week before, after he'd walked her to her door following their first date, they'd shared a long, tender kiss that had left them both aching for more but determined not to rush things.

He hadn't asked to come in that night, even though he'd later admit he'd desperately wanted to. So as he escorted her to her apartment following the game -they'd been holding hands since he'd taken one of hers during the subway ride home- sexual tension had been running high. And she'd been unable to stop herself from asking him if he wanted to come in for a while.

He had known what she'd wanted. He had wanted it to. But that sarcastic side of him couldn't resist popping out a wise crack.

* * *

_"You know, my dates usually hold out until the third date," Flack commented, as they stood painfully close outside of her apartment door. She'd gotten the key in the lock and had turned it, and was now turning around to face him, a frown on her face._

_"Well if you'd like Detective, I could make you wait for a half a dozen dates if that suits your virginal Catholic school boy ways better," she shot back._

_A smirk tugged at his lips. He was speechless. And no woman had ever rendered him speechless. She was totally unlike any woman he'd ever been with. She simply wasn't going to fall at his feet and fawn all over him. Samantha Ross was feisty and independent and she wasn't going to just give in to him easily. She was going to be a challenge. He'd long ago learned, by not only her staunch refusal of his advances over the past year and the times he'd been in complete awe of her smart mouth and brutal honesty, that he had met his match in her. And being with her was going to be a test of the wills. And the verdict was still out on who was going to successfully break who._

_"If you don't want to come in then…" she turned back towards her door._

_He reached out and tangling his hand in her hair, yanked her back around and into him. His mouth capturing hers in an aggressive, demanding kiss._

_God…that kiss. She had never had a man kiss her like that before. Most treated her as if she was some kind of fragile, porcelain doll that needed to be handled with the utmost care. They kissed her and touched her with such control and tenderness, which while appreciated, often left her wishing for once she'd be treated like a living, breathing woman instead of a breakable object._

_And now, standing there in front of her apartment door, keys dangling from the lock, she was immersed in the most thrilling, sensual moment of her entire existence. Their kisses were hungry and passionate, their tongues mated frantically inside of each other's mouths. His hand tightly, almost painfully gripped her hair while his free hand so boldly cup and fondled her breast through her t-shirt. Don was the first man that wasn't afraid to show her just how desperately he wanted and needed her._

_As he broke the kiss, he left her resting back against her door. Her chest was heaving. Lungs burning as she attempted to draw air into them. Aching need threatened to consume her as his lips and his teeth teased the side of her neck and his fingers squeezed her breasts lightly and toyed with the nipple, his hand never attempting to go underneath her top. Suddenly filled with paranoia that a neighbour would come out into the hall and find them there like that, she tried not to crumble completely as he suckled at her tender skin. Reaching blindly behind her, she found finished unlocking the door and shoved it upon._

_They stumbled into the foyer, the door slamming behind them as their mouths once again began devouring each other and their hands began to yank at each other's clothing. At least any clothing that was below the waist. She pulled away from him, anxiously kicking her jeans as they lay tangled around her ankles. The mixture of raging hormones and the alcohol she'd consumed at the game playing games with her balance and sending her stumbling forehead into his chest. Catching him off guard, Don found himself suddenly pushed backwards into the door, the back of his skull colliding hard with the wood._

_A string of expletives erupted from his lips as he doubled over and clutched at his injured head._

_Sam gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth, in complete shock at what had just transpired. She certainly hadn't expected to injure him their first night together._

_"Are you…?"_

_"I'm fine!" he bellowed. "I'm fucking fine!"_

_She suddenly found something so damn funny about the scene playing out in front of her. At the sight of him turning bright red from both anger and embarrassment, half naked and in an obvious state of arousal. And she just couldn't help herself. All concern flew out the window and she burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter._

_"You think that's funny, huh?" Don asked, a smirk playing on his lips._

_She nodded, then gave shriek of surprise when he grabbed a hold of her hips and aggressively pulled her into him, capturing her mouth with his once again._

_"You just like it when other people feel the pain?" he asked, his lips against her ear as he pushed her back against the wall and his fingers commenced toying with the bows on the her hips. It wouldn't take much to strip her off those sexy little bubble gum pink undies, and he was dying to get them off of her. "You like that kind of thing too, Sammie? You like being the rough one or do you like someone being that way with you too?" he asked._

_Up until that point, she'd never had someone talk that way to her. The two men she'd been with her lifetime before him had never been 'talkers'. They'd taken things slow. They'd been patient and gentle. And this…this was something she'd never experienced before but had always secretly desired._

_"I like being that way with you," she replied._

_Don pulled back and stared at her. Taken back by her answer._

_She was certain, that considering the foot difference in height and the nearly one hundred pounds he had up on her, that he'd been expecting her to be scared of him. Intimidated. And it took him several long silent minutes of hungry blue eyes locked on lustful golden brown ones, for him to actually respond._

_"Are you sure that…"_

_She tunnelled her fingers in his hair and yanked him down into a kiss. Her free hand grabbed a hold of one of his and moved it between her legs._

_"I'm sure," she whispered against his lips._

* * *

It hadn't been the most romantic of moments. Fuelled by alcohol and long bottled up mutual lust, it had been a hard and fast coupling against the wall, still dressed from the waist up. But it had been incredibly exciting and ultimately satisfying. She had been slightly terrified afterwards that now that he'd gotten what he'd wanted, he was going to simply be on his way. So relief had surged through her when, after he'd composed himself following his powerful released, kissed her ever so gently and smoothed her hair away from her face and regarded her with the utmost tenderness. And respect.

He'd stayed the night. And well into the next day. Their second bout had been slow and intense, and heart-breakingly gentle. It was a side of him that she was startled, yet ultimately relieved to discover. While it had been his aggressive and assertive 'alpha male' personality that had initially attracted her to him, it was that compassionate, gentle soul that had made her fall madly in love with him.

She had fallen asleep wrapped tightly and securely in those strong arms. Her naked body still slick with sweat, pressed against his. She had felt safe and comfortable as she listened to his heart beat and felt his hand softly stroking her hair. However, she'd woken up completely alone. Sunlight streaming into her bedroom and the alarm clock advertising that it was five minutes before noon. Panic and anger immediately set in as she cursed him out for leaving without even bothering to say goodbye. He had gotten laid -repeatedly- and had bailed on her. She had served her purpose and had felt dirty and used. She remembered the feel of tears stinging her eyes as she he rolled over onto her side and reached for the cordless phone resting on the beside table. She'd been fully prepared to call him and give him the reaming out of a lifetime.

Until she spotted his wallet, watch and cell phone sitting on the bedside table as well. And heard him moving about her kitchen.

He hadn't left. Instead, he'd simply gone out into the kitchen to make breakfast as a surprise. And she remembered sitting up in bed, a sheet wrapped around her naked body and a sheepish expression on her face as he finally wandered into the room, balancing two plates of scrambled eggs and pancakes in his hands and forks and knives and napkins tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

* * *

_"What's that look for?" Don asked, amused by the flush to her cheeks and the way she bit her bottom lip when she was nervous._

_"I didn't realize you cooked too," she replied, in essence avoiding his question entirely._

_"It surprises you that I'm somewhat domesticated?" he teased, as he handed her a plate of food before reaching around to pull the items out of his pocket and then tossing them on the bed._

_"It surprises me that you're still here," she admitted, then turned a brilliant shade of red._

_"You didn't want me to still be here?" he asked, as he climbed into the middle of the bed. Leaning back against the head board, he settled his plate in his lap._

_"I never said that. I said that I was surprised you were still here," she answered, picking up a knife and fork and holding it out to him._

_He smirked, and as he reached out to take the cutlery, wrapped his fingers around her slender wrist and pulled her into him. Kissing her until they were both breathless and seriously considering leaving breakfast until later. She did after all, own a microwave. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with reheated eggs and pancakes._

_"Isn't it nice to know that there's at least some surprises left out there?" Don asked, as he ran his knuckles lightly across her cheek. "That not all men are complete bastards? That I didn't just fuck you and leave you? Isn't it nice to wake up and realize that I was still around?"_

* * *

After that, they'd spent nearly every night sleeping, and enjoying each other, in the same bed. She had quickly found out how easy it was to get used to having someone beside you in bed. How wonderfully relaxing it was to be able to smell them and feel their body brush up against yours. To have their arms enveloping you as you listened to them whisper in your ear how much they loved you and always would. How they would never leave you.

Sam had taken those moments and those words for granted. She hadn't really known what she had until it **was** gone.

And that was a pain that would never fade.

Stop doing this! Sam ordered herself, as she stood at her kitchen table, a cup of barely touched lukewarm tea and a plate of now ice cold peanut butter and toast across from her. Stop torturing yourself! Stop wishing him back! Stop reliving things! Stop thinking about what might have been and start thinking about what is going to be! He's not coming back! Not tomorrow, not a week or a month over even a year from now!

Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the tears and the heartache away. At a moment when she should have been her happiest -she'd found love again, she was sure of it and thoughts of the morning that her and Danny had shared still made her tingle inside- she was making herself completely miserable.

She felt guilty. Not for giving herself to Danny or for feeling such overwhelming, intense feelings for him. But for thinking of the past, for indulging in memories of her dead husband while the man in her life was sleeping upstairs. It wasn't fair to him. It wasn't right that he had to compete with a ghost. And while she didn't mean to compare the two men, she just couldn't help herself. She had shared a life with Don. She had planned on spending forever with him. She had created a life with him. And it wasn't easy to just turn the memories off. To just forget about him and act like he never existed.

Especially when a living, breathing reminder of him was sitting just feet away in the baby swing. Gurgling noisily as he kicked his legs excitedly and batted at the toys that his mother had sewn to long pieces of fabric that she'd then tied to the overhead bar of the swing. It was hard not to think of Donnie when his son was the spitting image of him. The thick black hair, the brilliant blue eyes surrounded by impossibly long, dark lashes.

And that smile.

She sighed heavily and opened her eyes.

And wondered when the hell it was ever going to get any easier.

Of course, it didn't help that her mother had brought this all on. That inside of that parcel that now lay open in the middle of the table, she had included a hand written note and several photographs that she'd come across while doing some spring cleaning. While baby clothes lay scattered across the table -everything from baseball and hockey inspired sleepers to overalls and rugby shirts and an adorable argyle sweater vest, blue and white stripped shirt and navy blue pants- all Sam could concentrate on were those photos that were clutched in her hand. Pictures that had been taken a year and a half ago when she and Don had paid her parents a visit in Phoenix. Casual photos that had been snapped in her folks' backyard and showed a smiling, happy young couple with their arms around each other or kissing. Back when things were wonderful and uncomplicated and…

And when he was still alive_,_ she thought sadly, as she ran her thumb over her husband's face.

She remembered the moment depicted in the photograph. Her mother was a camera whore, but a technology phob all at the same time. She refused to buy a digital camera and always relied on disposables or an old Nikon she still had kicking around. And despite Don's mumblings and grumblings to Sam that her mother was a total pain in the ass with the whole picture thing, he'd none the less, in the middle of a barbecue her parents were hosting for them and that had been attended by all of her parents' friends, he'd turned his Mets cap backwards and wrapped an arm around her neck and rested his chin on her shoulder.

He'd been unshaven that day. And she remembered that on top of that ball cap, he'd also worn a pair of the most ridiculously ugly Adidas flip flops she'd ever seen, a pair of olive green cargo shorts and a plain white golf shirt that had been tight around his biceps. And she still recalled thinking, as she watched him playing with a handful of young kids that belonged to various neighbours of her parents' that not only was he the most insanely sexy man she'd ever seen, but that he was going to be an amazing father.

Too bad he never got that chance_,_ she mused wryly. And gracing her thumb along his face one last time, forced herself to slip the photos back into the envelope they'd been shipped in. Her hands were trembling, her chest ached with sorrow.

She needed to concentrate on something else. She needed to beat the grief, even for a moment, by keeping herself busy. An idle mind was a devil's play thing. And was in no mood to toy with anyone or anything.

Dropping the envelope into the box, she looked over her shoulder and stole a glance at the clock on the microwave.

It's getting late_,_ she silently observed, and crossing the kitchen, snagged the cordless phone off of the top of the fridge. Time to get the show on the road.

Time to concentrate on the living and not dwell on the dead.

Even if it's just for a little while.

* * *

Danny woke to an empty bed.

As bright sunshine bathed his face in warmth and a gentle breeze tumbling through the open window wafted over his body, he reached out for the body that lay beside him.

Or the body that should have been beside him.

Instead of finding smooth, creamy skin to caress or silky hair to comb his fingers through, his hand found…nothing. The rumbled sheets were cool to the touch and bore a mixture of Sam's soft yet intoxicating scent and the saltiness of perspiration.

Their lovemaking, while intense, had also been slow and meaningful. He'd been gentle and attentive. Catering to her needs and wants while remaining sharply aware of her nervousness and fright. It had been a massive step for her. It had been an entire year since she'd been with a man. For three years before that it had been Flack, and only Flack, that she'd shared a bed with. Before him, she'd had a very small, limited amount of experience, and Danny had known that on top of her fear of the actual intimacy itself, guilt lingered just under the surface. She was hesitant of taking that step with him because she felt as if she was doing something wrong. That she was betraying her husband by being with someone else. It wasn't necessarily the fact that it was _him_ she'd chosen to be with. Flack's best friend. But it was the fact that it was _any _man. She was used to Flack's touch. His taste and the warmth and feel of his body. Everything else was simply foreign.

And damn scary.

Danny had paused several times, giving her the opportunity to put a halt to things. The last thing he'd wanted was her sleeping with him because she knew it was what he wanted. He hadn't wanted her curled up in bed afterwards, sobbing because she had regrets. He had wanted it to be a positive, pleasurable experience. Not one she'd lament over for years to come because it hadn't lived up to her expectations or it hadn't been what she had truly wanted. And each time he hesitated and pulled back to ask if she was alright, if she was comfortable with what was happening, she'd curled her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a sizzling kiss that left them both breathless and kick started the action once again.

He'd been tender and patient. Stopping when she asked him to, continuing just as quickly as when she gathered her composure and wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her nails into his shoulders, spurring him on. He'd made love to her at a controlled pace that surprised even him. While his body was encouraging him to pick things up, to concentrate on his needs, his brain was reminding him that this was a sensitive moment. That Sam needed someone that she could trust, someone that made her feel safe and secure.

She'd chosen him. In the midst of her grief she'd chosen him to help her heal. To move on with. And there was no way in hell that he wanted to disappoint her.

Afterwards, they had laid motionless and silent in a heap of tangled limbs, their chests heaving from excursion and their bodies coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Danny had felt perfectly sated and had been dozing off into a comfortable, peaceful sleep with his arms wrapped around her lovingly and protectively, when he'd been startled awake by the sensation of her entire body trembling against him. He'd been startled, and concerned, to find that she was crying. Legitimately sobbing with her head buried in his chest. And instead of asking for, or needing, an explanation, he'd simply smoothed her hair away from her face and pressed gentle kisses to her forehead and her cheeks and her lips. He'd used his thumbs to clear away her tears.

Then he'd taken her once again in his arms and had stroked her hair and her back and whispered reassuring words of comfort into her ear. He had understood how difficult it had been to give herself to him. How she'd no doubt been filled with memories of what it had been like with her husband. Flooded with recollections of what his kiss and his touch had felt like. And he understood that while she was willing to move on with him, she also desperately missed and loved Flack.

Just like she understood how much he still missed and loved Lindsay. It was a fifty-fifty relationship for the most part. Neither expected the other to forget their past while moving on with the future.

He'd held her and soothed her until her breathing had softened and he'd felt her arms, which she'd previously wrapped tightly around his neck, completely relax. And it was then, and only then, when he was sure that she was resting peacefully and was safe and secure and comfortable with herself and with him, that he was able to succumb to sleep as well.

It had seemed like a lifetime since he'd fallen asleep with a woman wrapped tightly in his arms. Since he'd felt their silky skin against his body. Since he'd heard their gentle sighs and their soft murmurings. Since he'd buried his face in their hair and breathed in their soft scent and felt their heart beating deep within their chest. And being that way with Sam…holding her so protectively as she slept…it had felt right. She had felt right. _They_ had felt right.

Danny had no regrets. Now that they'd taken that next step on what he hoped would be a stable, lasting relationship, there wasn't even the smallest piece of him that was second guessing his decision to get involved with her. He had expected there to be some guilt. That he'd lie in bed afterwards and beat himself up over the fact that he'd just had sex with his best friend's wife. The woman that Flack had pledged his undying devotion for in front of God and all of his family and friends while Danny stood beside him the entire time. He had expected to berate himself for sleeping with someone who'd been like a sister to Lindsay.

Instead he'd felt…nothing. There was no guilt, no regret, no nothing. The only thing he'd felt afterwards was a tremendous sense of closure. As if giving himself to another woman had somehow helped him bring finality the past year of his life. That losing himself in Sam, had in essence, helped him shed the tremendous burden of grief and loss. And while the pain of losing Lindsay was still there and would always remain to some extent, the hope of finding love and shelter with another had dulled the pain considerably.

But now, as he lay in that empty bed, his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling and watched the dancing patterns created on the stucco by the sunlight, worry gnawed at him. He wondered if that empty bed was a sign that she was regretting it. That she was unable to get past her lingering guilt and suffocating grief and she was somewhere in the house, cursing herself, and him, for letting something so intense happen between them. And he briefly considered just tossing his clothes on and hauling ass on out of that house before she had the chance to tell him that it was a mistake and that it could never, ever happen again.

And that whatever they had, or whatever they'd hoped to have, just wasn't going to work.

The shrill ring of his cell phone cut through the silence in the room, rolling over onto his right side, he reached for the offending object as it lay on the nightstand along with his badge and handcuffs. He almost hoped it was a call out. Paranoia was running high, and an offer of extra hours would save him from having his ego crushed when Sam told him he was nothing but a mistake and she didn't want him in her life anymore. Snatching up his phone, he had to squint his eyes in order to properly read the call display.

S &D FLACK HOME.

He frowned at the sight of those words, and pressing talk, placed the phone to his ear. "Samantha…" he said in way of greeting. "What…."

"Detective Messer, this is your personal wake up call," she chirped. "There's fresh coffee and cookies waiting for you if you're interested in spending the rest of your afternoon with your beautiful, sexy and amazing girlfriend and her equally as adorable son."

He felt a grin quickly spread from ear to ear. "You have no idea how happy and relieved I am to hear you say that," he said.

"Which part?" she asked. "The coffee and cookies part or the one where I called myself your girlfriend?"

"You mean my beautiful, sexy, amazing girlfriend," he corrected her. "And her equally adorable son," he added. "I'm not ashamed to admit that I was slightly paranoid."

"About?"

"I woke up and you were gone. And I may have taken it completely out of context."

"May have?"

"Okay…so I became a total bitch for a second and was worried that you'd bailed on me while I was asleep and…"

"Bailed on you?" there was a smile in her voice. "This is my house. Where was I going to go?"

"What I'm trying to tell you is that I woke up, found an empty bed and assumed the worst. I thought maybe you were hiding out somewhere, feeling bad about what went down between us, and just waiting to tell me what a mistake the entire thing was."

She laughed at that. "You're a silly man, Daniel Messer," she declared. "Now get down here before your coffee gets cold. I'll even make you some lunch. A late lunch, mind you."

He stole a glance at the watch that graced his left wrist. His eyes widening when he saw it was quarter to three in the afternoon.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Rubbing at his weary eyes, he leaned across his body to rummage underneath the pillows in search of his glasses.

"Well you have been working a lot of hours and you did use up a hell of a lot of energy this morning," she reasoned. "And you look so peaceful and so innocent when you're sleeping…I just didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Thank you," he said sincerely, and finally locating his glasses, used his teeth to pry open the arms. "So lunch, huh?" he asked, as he slipped the glasses onto his face.

"Roast beef sandwiches and pasta salad. Sound good to you?"

"Sounds awesome. I need sustenance. You wore me out. I need to fill up the tank if you expect me to be able to give you a repeat performance."

"Oh I expect more than one," she said with a giggle. "So I better keep you full and satisfied."

"Trust me, Sammie, you already achieved that last one."

She gave a laugh. And he could just see her cheeks flushing. "Just get down here, Daniel."

"Yes, m'am," he said, and disconnected the call.

He sat there in the middle of the rumpled bed for what seemed like an eternity. Thinking about the state of his life and relishing the feeling of new found happiness and hope bubbling inside of him. And as he stared down at the phone in his hand, unable to wipe the smile of his face, Danny Messer was looking forward to the journey that lay ahead of him.

One day at a time, he thought, as he returned his cell phone to the top of the nightstand. The good with the bad and the bad with the good. 'Cause if we can get through the last year, we can get through anything.

It was the first time in a year he'd been optimistic and excited about anything.

* * *

**A huge thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you for all of your support and well wishes! I hope you're all enjoying this is as much as I am enjoying writing it! Lurkers…well thanks to you guys too!**

**Special thanks to:**

**Hope4sall**

**Elphena Lewis**

**CSINYMinute**

**Nik Nak 17**

**Madison Bellows**

**HighQueenReicheru**

**wolfeylady**

**BlueEyedAuthor**

**xsamiliciousx**

**Soccer-bitch**

**Delko's Girl 88**

**

* * *

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**Also, I'm pimping out some of my friends! Check out their stories:**

**CSINYMinute: The Wrong Side, Steam Rising (seriously, if you're into HOT stuff and not at all shy, check it out).**

**SpankyMcDoogleFace: Gravity, Bleeding Blue**

**Hope4sall: Random Selection, Eleven Years**


	16. Chapter 16

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. OBVIOUSLY. I ONLY OWN SAMANTHA ROSS-FLACK AND BABY DJ.**

**A/N: NOMINATIONS FOR THE CSI:NY2009 FAN FICTION AWARDS CAN NOW BE MADE! HEAD ON OVER AND SHOW SOME LOVE FOR YOUR FAVS!**

**HUGE HUGS AND KISS TO MY AMAZING FRIEND CASS FOR FINDING ME THE GREAT SONG AT THE BEGINNING OF THIS CHAPTER!**

* * *

**Slowly but surely**

"_I have wandered through the mountains  
I have searched the streets below  
But all I ever really wanted  
Was someone to hold me  
And to keep me from the cold_

And when the night falls  
And you`re fast asleep  
I`ll watch over you  
And I`ll pray your heart to keep  
So you can sleep easy  
You know you can count on me

I have wandered through the mountains  
I have searched the streets below  
But all I ever really wanted  
Is someone to need me  
And keep me from the cold  
Baby keep me from the cold

Oh darlin` when you`re sleeping  
Am I with you in your dreams?  
Do I hold you close?  
And dance you through the night?  
And when the nightmares come  
Will you let me be the one  
Who kisses you  
And tells you it`s alright?

_And in the morning  
When the light creeps in  
I will hold you  
As you`re slowly waking  
I`ll kiss you so softly  
And promise I`ll never go."  
__-Keep Me From The Cold, Curtis Stigers_

* * *

As Danny lingered in the kitchen doorway, he gazed tenderly upon the scene playing out before him. Beautiful in its simplicity, the realization that this may very well be his future, his family, made even the easiest of day to day activities seem so utterly perfect. And surreal. DJ was slowly drifting off to sleep in the swing his mother had placed in the middle of the room. Long, dark eyelashes brushing against pale, smooth skin as resistance to nap time became futile. His dark hair, being tousled by the slight breeze that trickled through the open patio door, was a stark contrast to the bright orange t-shirt that his mother had dressed him in earlier.

Samantha was standing at the table, the parcel he'd brought over that morning sitting open in front of her and various items of baby clothing strewn about. Eyeing an adorable pair of denim Osh-Gosh overalls that were clutched in her hands, a soft, almost sad smile curving her lips. Her hair had been pulled back an secured in a tight ponytail, then twisted and turned and set into a sloppy bun held together by an obscene amount of bobby pins. Her feet were bare, her toes boasting a vibrant bubble gum pink polish that matched the body hugging t-shirt she sported. Her beige linen khakis high lighted every luscious, womanly curves. Curves that just hours before his eager yet gentle hands were uncovering and exploring.

He could still hear her soft sighs and her whimpers and moans. Could still feel that creamy, silky skin under his fingertips and the way her body trembled under his ministrations. Being with her had been nothing short of incredible. And a challenge. She had made him feel things he'd never thought he'd feel again. Both physically and emotionally. And it had taken all the will power he had to keep things slow and easy. A long time without a lover, especially one that he was that attracted to and wanted that badly, had left him on edge and needy, and he fought with himself in order to make their first time together -and her first time with any man in a year- as perfect for her as possible. His needs and his wants hadn't mattered. She'd been the sole focus.

And he was determined, after making the mistake of not concentrating on Lindsay and their relationship as well as he should have, to keep Sam the main priority in his life.

"Mornin'," he greeted, as he entered the kitchen. Standing behind her, he circled her waist with his arms and pressed a soft kiss to her temple before nuzzling the side of her neck. "Or in this case I guess I should be sayin' afternoon."

She smiled, and resting her hands on his forearms, laid the back of her head against his shoulder. God, it felt so good to have his arms around her. To be tucked into his warm and welcoming body. To feel his breath hot against her skin and the inhale his intoxicating scent. He'd taken his second shower of the day and the body wash lingered on his skin and permeated his senses.

Although it frightened her to realize she was quickly falling in love with him, it didn't surprise her. In the past year, despite being in the midst of his own crippling grief, he'd stepped up to the plate to help her through her own immense sorrow. He'd unselfishly pushed his own pain aside to make sure that she was taking care of herself and her unborn child. He'd gone above and beyond to uphold a promise he'd made to his best friend, and it had given Sam a chance to witness that caring and compassionate side that Danny possessed.

Not that she wouldn't have, despite Danny's steadfast determination to care for her, wished her husband back. Many a time, after he'd taken her to an ultrasound appointment and had sat holding her hand of stroking her hair, his eyes riveted on the screen and a broad smile on his face as if he was the proud father, Sam had been filled with both gratefulness and sorrow. She was grateful that her husband had asked Danny to look out for her in the event of his death, and that Danny had been loyal enough to hold up his end of the deal. Yet she was sad because it never should have been up to Danny to be the man sitting there with her. It should have been Don with tears sparkling in his eyes as they witnesses the their baby moving around and that tiny heart beating. It should have been Don decorating the nursery and lying in bed with her and covering her growing stomach with a large, strong and talking to their unborn son. It should have been Don by her side during the delivery, who cut the cord and who brought their new baby to her beside.

But it hadn't been. Unfortunately.

Fortunately however, in Danny she'd found a suitable replacement when it came time to deliver her son. God…how she despised that word. Replacement. No one could ever possibly replace Don or the way she'd loved him. She was learning to love again, but her love for Danny, while getting stronger day by day, would always be different then what she'd experienced with her husband. The man she had pledged forever to and whom she'd been excitedly looking forward to growing old alongside of.

Stand in was perhaps the better word. Despite his initial misgivings and his perpetual anxiety and self doubt, Danny had been an excellent, if not a little nervous , labour coach from start to finish. He'd gone to the parenting and lamaze classes. Having to either pretend he was the baby's father, or having to tell the painful truth behind his presence in Sam and her child's lives. He'd found it easier, and less agonizing, to just smile and act like the proud baby daddy. And Sam had never begrudged him that level of comfort. At class he'd been good natured and couldn't resist cracking jokes and asking a boat load of questions. During labour itself - he'd rushed over to the hospital from a crime scene in Far Rockaway after a Jessica Angell had called to say that Sam's water had broken while Angell was over at her place to finish the set up of the nursery - he'd walked the halls of the L and D ward, a supportive arm around her waist. He'd comforted her when she'd clung to him and buried her head in his chest, sobbing as contractions nearly brought her to her knees. And during the birth itself, he'd been upbeat and encouraging.

It was in the aftermath, a few hours after she'd successfully delivered her precious miracle, that she'd gazed down through teary eyes at her baby boy while an exhausted Danny snored noisily in the bedside chair, that she'd realized all that she'd lost and all that she'd gained. She'd lost the love of her life and a woman she'd loved like a sister. But in Danny, she'd gained a best friend. Someone who'd lost just as much as she had.

And now she'd gained so much more. While he still remained her best friend, the one person aside from her brother that she trusted with her deepest darkest secrets and with her life and that of her son, Danny now played a much bigger role in her life. He was her confidant and a protector. And a lover. Which was something she'd never thought she'd ever have again. Or that she'd desire to have again.

* * *

"You sleep good?" she asked, running her fingernails along his forearms.

"I did. Best sleep I've had in a long time actually. Must have been all that physical activity. You wore me out. Not to mention you marked your territory and created a road map of scratches all over my back and my shoulders. Flack was right. You are a dangerous little thing."

She flushed slightly.

"It's all good, babe," Danny chuckled and pressed feathery kisses along her neck. "A little bit of pain and bloodshed never killed anyone. Even though I think I might need a tetanus shot 'cause of that nice bite mark you left on my shoulder."

She bit her lip and blushed furiously.

"I'm just teasing ya," he said, amused by her embarrassment. "It was a total turn on. You bein' that into things? Complete ego booster."

"Oh your ego was doing just fine," she laughed. "Among other things…"

"Well I definitely aim to please," he told her, his lips on her shoulder as his hands slid slowly down her stomach, over her thighs and back up again before settling on her hips. "You were amazing…" he whispered against her neck. "The way you made me feel…thank you for that."

A smiled tugged at her lips as she turned around to face him. "You weren't so bad yourself," she said, and ran her hands along his shoulders and down his biceps, revelling in the feel of muscle under her fingers and in the sight of him in just a wife beater and a pair of baggy jeans. His hair still damp and sticking up every which way, and his face still unshaven. And his glasses present on his face.

"I wasn't so bad?" he asked teasingly, and cocked an eyebrow as his hands trailed from her hips to the small of her back and then travelled downward to lightly graze her ass. "Here I was thinking that by all that noise you were making that you were thinking I was doing a pretty damn good job."

"Let's put it this way…" her index finger curled around the chain from which the dog tags dangled from around his neck. "I don't have any complaints."

"I should here as hell hope not," he said, and grabbing her by the hips, yanked her tightly against him as he covered his mouth with hers in a passionate, toe curling kiss. His tongue pushed eagerly between her teeth and gained access to her mouth. He heard her soft moan and felt the slight tremble to her body as their tongues met and swirled and danced together and his fingers bit into her hips.

She was a damn good kisser. It hadn't taken him long to realize what had exactly kept Flack going back for more. He'd said, during his speech at his wedding, that the second he'd kissed his now wife he was a goner. One kiss and he was completely lost in her and he didn't care if he ever found himself. And two nights ago, standing in the upstairs hallway, Danny had experienced first hand how easily she was able to rip your heart out of your chest and hold it hostage. One touch of those soft, full lips and a simple graze of her tongue against his and he was toast. Just as he was finding himself again after losing the first love of his life, he was handing himself over again to someone else.

And when it didn't scare the shit out of him, well that was what had told Danny Messer that this was the real deal. He wasn't with her as a distraction. He wasn't using her to fill a void in his life. He wasn't trying to replace Lindsay. He was simply discovering love all over again.

When the need for air became a necessity, he broke the kiss, leaving them both breathless. Her eyes were still closed as she collapsed into his chest and he circled her waist as her one hand held tightly onto his chain and the other grasped the back of his wife beater.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I wasn't sure if everything was okay between us after this morning. I wasn't sure if I hurt you or…"

"Everything is more than okay with us," she assured him. Pulling back, her eyes flickered open and she smiled dreamily at him. "Wasn't that kiss enough to let you know that things are fine? And you didn't hurt me. I wasn't crying because it hurt, Danny. You were gentle and patient and wonderful. I was just…it had been a year. Since I'd been with someone. And that someone was my husband. Someone I thought I'd spend forever with. So being with you…it was just different. Getting used to way you feel and the way you smell and the things you do. And it was…scary."

"What were you scared of?" he asked. "Of me?"

"Not of you…never of you. Of the things that I was feeling for you. The things that I do feel for you. And I guess I was kind of worried that, I don't know….that I'd disappoint you."

Leaving one arm around her waist, he brought his hand up to sweep her bangs off of her forehead. "Why would you disappoint me?"

She shrugged. "You're used to someone else, too. And I guess I was worried I wouldn't live up to that."

"Sammie…you're not in competition with anyone, okay? Lindsay's gone. She's never coming back. You're not competing with her ghost. You and Linds…you're two completely different people. In every possible way. The way she was in bed and the way you are…I'm not going to talk shit about her by saying one was better than the other. But you're two totally different people. And you both do two totally different things to me. So don't ever think I'm going to be lying there when we're making love thinking about Lindsay and how she used to do things. I wouldn't disrespect you like that."

"And you know that I'd never do that to you, right?" she asked, sounding worried. "I mean…I'm not going to be thinking about Donnie while you and I are…."

"I'd never think that," he assured her, hoping that he sounded more convincing to her ears then he did to his own. "But it's kind of expected, don't you think? We spend years with the same people day in and day out. We're always going to find ways to compare each other to Flack and Lindsay. Doesn't make us bad people that we do that. Just makes us human. Can't spend that long with someone and not notice the differences when you're with someone else, right?"

She nodded in agreement.

"Important thing to remember is that it's just the two of us in this relationship. No one else matters. Living or dead. We don't have to explain ourselves to anyone. And we especially don't have to explain a damn thing to each other. Let's just go with the flow, a'right? Let's just close our eyes and jump right into the deep end and see where things take us. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," she agreed, and pulled him into another kiss.

"And I gotta say, I like this whole aggressive thing you got going on from time to time," he teased her, and bringing both hands to her face, pecked her forehead. "Makes my job of seducing you a lot easier."

She gave a laugh.

He frowned as he studied her face. Slightly distressed by the sight of tear tracks on her smooth cheeks. "Hope those were happy tears," he said, as his fingertips traced over the streaks on the left side of her face.

"When was anything happy when it came to my mother?" she responded, and entangling herself from his arms, turned around to face the table once again.

"All this stuff is from her?" Danny asked, as he stepped to her side and surveyed the wide assortment of baby clothes spread across the table.

Sam nodded. "DJ now officially has enough clothes to see him past his first birthday."

"Saves you money and the headache of having to hit up Walmart or Target," Danny reasoned, and picked up a pair of overalls, white Henley shirt with hunter green sleeves and a camouflage hoodie with the John Deere logo on the back of it. All dangling from an impossibly small hanger. "Farmer in training?" he asked, smirking as he showed the writing on the Henley. "She trying to turn the kid into a redneck or what?"

"You can blame my step father and his love for John Deere tractors for that one. And it's not like they even live on a damn farm. They live in on the outskirts of Phoenix for crying out loud. They barely have a front or a back lawn yet he goes and buys himself one of those stupid riding John Deere lawn mowers."

"Boys and their toys," Danny said. "All us guys need toys. Keeps us sane. It's why I keep my bike. Even if it is in my mother's garage and I barely ride it anymore. Guess it's just nice to know that if I'm ever having an incredibly shitty day and I just need to get away for a while, I can just go there, take the bad boy out and take off for a bit."

"Donnie's toys were the Xbox 360, Guitar Hero and that Nintendo DS he carted around everywhere with him," she said with a sigh. "My basement looks like an arcade with all of the video games systems and the hundreds of games lying around. I don't know what I'm suppose to do with all of that stuff."

"Keep it. I'll put them all to good use. So will Adam. Lot of memories go alone with all of them video games."

"You mean like the time at the old apartment that the three of you were completely tanked and kept me up until four in the morning with all of the horrific profanity spewing from your mouths and the way you were all nearly scraping it out over who was the bigger and batter video gamer?" she rolled her eyes at the memory. "Getting the three of you together was like supervising a sleep over for rowdy, hyperactive school kids."

"My personal favourite was the night that Adam broke the coffee table when he jumped up there playing Guitar Hero, thinking he was Slash from Guns n Roses," Danny chuckled. "Or the time that Flack nearly cracked your brother's head open tossing the controller at him when Adam kicked his ass at NHL 2007."

"No one beat Donnie at hockey," she laughed. "He was way too competitive. At everything. Why do you think I never played video games with him?"

"More competitive on the ice, though," Danny pointed out. "'Member the time he busted Marty Pino's collarbone? Clean, open ice hit too. It's what Pino got for admiring his pass and not keeping his head up. I tell you, I was body checked once by Flack and that was enough for me. It was like being hit by a goddamn freight train. Why you think I'd both joined his team and decided to be goalie?"

"Because you wanted to fulfil your Martin Brodeur fantasy?" Sam teased, bumping his hip with hers.

"Come on Brooklyn…don't you be going all Marty's biggest fan girl on me now. We all know that Patrick Roy was the greatest goalie of all time."

Sam snorted in disgust. "Well at least you didn't try to convince me that Lundqvist from the Rangers was the best like some people did…."

"Flack had absolutely no taste when it came to hockey players," Danny declared. "Just like you have absolutely no taste when it comes to decent teams. So what's up with the tears?" he asked, knowing full well she was going to keep avoiding their original conversation.

Sighing heavily, she reached into the box sitting in the middle of the table and pulled out a white envelope with her name scrawled across it and held it out to him.

"Letter from your mom?" he asked, as he took the item from her.

"It starts out really good," Sam replied, as she stepped away from the table and walked towards the fridge.

* * *

Danny watched her, eyes narrowed as she opened the refrigerator and began busying herself with removing food in order to prepare him something to eat. He'd never had to personally deal with the woman who'd become known as Flack's monster in law. It was a name that Flack had given the woman at his bachelor party, when the detective, drunk out of his skull, had expressed in extreme displeasure in the woman who'd sat back and allowed her children to be horrifically abused by their father, and who, to do more damage to her daughter, had decided that she wouldn't be coming to Sam's wedding because she didn't agree with her choice of who her daughter was getting hitched to. One meeting with Flack had been enough. She thought he was obnoxious, arrogant and her own words, a supreme bastard. Flack, in true knight in shining armour style, didn't care what the old bitch said about him. But insult the love of his life and he was on the phone in a heartbeat opening a can of whup ass on her. While immensely loyal to his friends and his colleagues, Sam was the one that Flack would walk to the ends of the earth for. He'd move mountains for her and give her the moon and the stars if it was at all possible. And no one, and that included the woman who'd done little more for Sam then give her life, was going to treat her like shit and get away with it.

Danny, while listening to Flack's tales of the mother in law from hell, had always counted his lucky stars. He'd bee fairly lucky with Lindsay's folks. While her father had been the quintessential overprotective, shot gun across his lap while waiting on the front porch type daddy, and her mother, a tiny mouse of a woman with an outrageous mop of curly brown hair and a sharp mouth and feisty temper, he'd always been made to feel like a member of the family. Even if he and Linds had been forced to sleep in separate rooms, on opposites sides of the house during the two visits to Montana they'd made. And even if her father, upon meeting Danny for the first time following the Daniel Cadence's trial, he'd been put through a gruelling interrogation that could give Robert Deniro and Ben Stiller in Meet the Parents a run for their money. Although he was slightly rough around the edges and spoke with a weird accent -an exact quote from Lindsay's grandmother- once her family realized how happy the realized Linds was and once they'd witnessed first hand the love Danny and Lindsay had shared, he'd been given the seal of approval.

Flack on the other hand, had been crapped on from the very second his future mother in law had laid eyes on him. He was abrasive. Loud. Conceited. Too aggressive and assertive. He bossed Sam around. And he was way too attractive for his own good. Lynne Ross had compared a lengthy list of insults regarding her daughter's then boyfriend and had had the nerve to mail them to Sam inside of her birthday card. Sam in turn, incensed but determined to be the bigger person, went to a bodega, crapped the first postcard she'd seen, wrote: I LOVE HIM on the back of it and promptly shipped it off to her mother in Phoenix. While Sam's equally it not more abrasive step father had accepted and welcomed Flack eventually - mostly because he caved to Sam's begging and pleading for even the smallest form of civility and her endless flow of tears , not because he genuinely approved of Flack- her mother remained a massive bitch. Flack in turn, hardly put off of Sam just because of her crazy mother, had made sure he was more obnoxious and conceited whenever the old bitch, as he called her, happened to call to speak to Sam. And if she dared say anything mean to her daughter in the course of a conversation, well Flack went right ballistic.

Danny just didn't know how to deal with someone like Lynne Ross. He'd never personally met the woman and didn't care to. He only knew of her through the horror stories Flack had told him in confidence. While both Sam and Adam were notoriously closed off when it came to their childhoods growing up in Brooklyn -and rightfully so considering the depth and horrendous nature of the abuse they'd both suffered at the hands of their father- Flack had opened up to Danny several times -the majority of those will tipsy or completely hammered- about what Sam had endured and the long term repercussions that had ensued because of both of her parents. Trust issues, the recoiling and flinching when Flack so as much raised his voice or made a sudden move, intimacy issues, Sam's history of being involved in abusive relationships. It was a lengthy list.

While her father had been the abuser, often beating both kids to a pulp, locking them for days on end in the dirty basement without food or water, and a litany of other horrific things he'd subjected them to, her mother had simply stood by and let it all happen. She had never once called the police or simply packed up her kids in the middle of the night and took off. Flack had never quite understood two things. How her mother could have let her children live that nightmare, or how no one -playmates at school, teachers, other family members who knew what was going on, neighbours who must have heard the Ross children screaming in pain and terror- stepped up to the plate and saved those two kids from sheer hell.

"You know what burns my ass the most?" Flack had asked one night, as he and Danny sat in a booth at Sullivan's downing shots of JD and chasing them with pints of Guinness.

Talked had turned to what Sam and Adam had gone through as kids after listening to the reporter on the eleven o'clock news talking about a horrendous case of child abuse and neglect in the same low income housing development that the Ross' had lived in in Crown Heights, Brooklyn.

"He was on the NYPD radar. I ran his name through the system after Sam first told me about all of this, and he'd been arrested five times," Flack continued, disgust in his voice, vehemence in his eyes. "Assault, drunk and disorderly, theft under five hundred, carrying a concealed weapon, assault of a police officer. Five times Danny and each time some asshole defensive attorney got him the lightest sentence possible and he was allowed to go back home and do that to his kids. My father was even one of the arresting officers once. Five times he was in the department's clutches and not once did her mother leave with those kids while he was cooling his heels in lock up. She had her chance to get out and never took it. And the department had their chance to investigate what was going on in that house and they never fucking did it. How could that happen? How could Sammie and Adam just fall through the cracks like that? How could everyone just ignore what was going on?"

Danny hadn't had an answer to that. He still didn't. He had no idea how a mother could allow her children to be tormented like that. Or how the NYPD hadn't caught wind of what was going on in that house. But what Danny did know, was that both Sam and Adam were a hell of a lot stronger then anyone ever gave them credit for. They'd somehow managed to survive. Both physically and mentally.

He looked away from his girlfriend as she busied herself at the kitchen counter, and down at the piece of paper in his hands. The letter, handwritten on crisp white stationery with purple, pink and yellow butterflies across the top and town the margins, started out normal enough. Talk of how things were going in Phoenix. How the weather -dry and hot as hell but what else was new?- was treating them, how well they were doing health wise and how her step dad was still spending all of his time gardening and collecting model trains. Then things went quickly south when her mother mentioned how the renovations on their home were coming along.

_Your dad is even going to make a play room and a Cars themed bedroom for DJ. I told him he was just wasting his time because you never grace us with your presence. And why did you have to name the baby something so terrible? I mean, Donald? Really? Give your head a shake girl._

The words became increasingly bitter as Danny continued reading in disbelief. Sam's mother expressed her extreme disgust at her daughter's behaviour in the past year. For being selfish and closing herself off. For being ungrateful by not agreeing to sell the house and saying farewell to her life in New York City in favour or taking her folks up on their offer of living with them. And for allowing her 'misplaced' grief and anger to turn her into a shallow, unfeeling, spoiled little bitch. And to add insult to injury, her mother had added, at the very bottom:

_You were the worst mistake I ever made. And are my greatest disappointment._

Danny hadn't been aware that he'd been gripping the letter as hard as he was until he heard the loud crinkling of paper between his fingers. The anger he felt, as he read the hate that spewed forth from that note, was unlike anything he'd ever know. He'd never experienced anything like that. Someone being so vicious to someone he cared so much about. And it hurt -tremendously- to think of how it must have shattered Sam's heart to read that letter.

He looked up and over to where she was now standing at the sink. Her hands planted firmly on the counter, her lips pursed tightly together as she stared out into the backyard, struggling with her emotions.

And suddenly he was struck by the thought of how many times this sort of situation may have happened in the past. In this very room, even. Where an altercation with her mother had left Samantha emotionally broken and Flack in charge of damage control. And Danny knew exactly what his best friend would have done if he'd read that letter. He would have torn the damn thing into shreds while ranting and raving about how it was time for Sam to smarten up and cut the bitch out of her life for good. Flack would call the woman every vile name in the book until he felt better. Because seeing Sam, the woman he'd loved more than life itself, wounded and vulnerable had always been enough to nearly break Flack. And when he'd calmed down enough to be of some source of comfort to his wife, he'd to go her and take her in his arms and hold her. He'd stroke her hair as he let her sob. He'd take her face in his hands and wipe and kiss the tears away. And when she'd composed herself, he'd fire off some wise crack that would make her laugh.

_But Flack's not here,_ Danny reminded himself. _He's not here to deal with this stuff anymore. You are. And it's up to you to handle this. To find your own way to help her cope._

It was the reality that it **was **up to him to help her through situations like this that scared Danny. Because he just wasn't equipped to handle **that** kind of thing. And he worried that he wouldn't do it adequately enough. That he wouldn't be what she needed.

He didn't want to disappoint her.

* * *

Sighing heavily, he calmly folded the letter in two and set it on the table. Then, crossing the kitchen, stood behind her and laid his hands on her tense shoulders. "Baby…" he spoke in a calm, quiet voice as he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm sorry that she said all of those thing. That she hurt you like that. You didn't deserve it and I…" he bit his bottom lip, choosing his words very carefully. "..I know that things have always been really bad between you and your mom. And you don't need to put up with that shit. You don't need to put any stock into what she's saying. You've just gone through the most horrific year possible and…" Why does this have to be so goddamn difficult? Danny thought. "…she doesn't deserve another second of your life. Or DJ's life. She's a mean spirited bitch who deserves to die miserable and alone. Fuck her. Worry about you and DJ and nothing else."

Sam nodded. The tension slowly disappearing from her body.

"Look…" Danny took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Don't take this the wrong way. I mean no disrespect to you or Flack and I…I'm not Don, okay? I don't deal with things the way he did. He had two sides to him, you know? He could be that strong, silent type that made you piss your pants by giving you that look, and then he could be a hot tempered, ferocious bastard when it came to protecting you. And me…I deal with things in two ways. Neither of them good. When things get tough, I shut down and push everyone away. Or I explode. No in between. And I'm trying to be…I'm trying to be what you need me to be. What you want me to be and I…"

"I don't need you and want you to be anything but you Danny," Sam told him. "Love isn't like that. When you love someone you don't want them to conform to what you want. You love and accept them for who they are. I loved Don because of who he was. I didn't expect him to be anything more than that. And I love you for who you are. I love Danny for Danny."

He blinked. Taken back by her admission. And whole that simple four letter word was perched dangerously on the edge of his tongue, he just couldn't bring himself to say them. He only hoped that she didn't expect him to. And if she did, that she'd understand that while he wanted to tell her, he also just wasn't ready to.

"I just need some help with these kinds of things sometime," he told her, softly running his hands along her shoulders and down her arms. Stopping at her elbows, his fingertips lightly grazed against the inside of her arms. "I'm not used to it and I don't want you thinking I'm some insensitive bastard if I don't respond the right way. If there's something you need or want from me, all you have to do is tell me, okay? Don't be shy about it. Just tell me exactly what you need and I'll do it for you. No questions asked. A'right?"

"Alright…" she agreed in a soft voice, and sniffled noisily. Then turned around to face him with a sad smile. "I'm sorry," she said, as he brought a hand to the side of her face and brushed his knuckles along her cheek. "I know I can be a real handful to deal with at the best of times. And for you to have to get this crash course into my family like that? I shouldn't have just dropped that letter on you like that and I…"

He silenced her by covering her lips with his in a tender kiss, both hands moving to her cheeks and cupping her face gently. "Nothing to be sorry about," he told her, as he broke out of the kiss and stared deep into those golden brown eyes. "We've all got a hell of a lot of baggage, Sammie. Some of us more than others. Between me and you alone…hell I think we got enough to do the entire lab…"

"But I…"

He placed a finger tip over her lips. "Listen to me, Sammie…you and I…we got through the last three hundred and sixty five days together. And then some. And this? Me and you standing here like this? This makes sense. 'Cause it was always us helping each other through. So no matter what kind of skeletons you got in that closet of yours, no matter how heavy that baggage? I'm here, a'right? I'm here and I'm not planning on going anywhere any time soon."

She attempted to protest against his finger.

"And you and I? I don't know…I look at it this way. We may be two completely fractured people, but together we make a slightly dented whole. That's the way I see us. And you know what? There's nothing wrong with that, babe. There's nothing wrong with what we're doing and you…"

"But.." she tried to argue with him once more, only to have him remove his finger from her lips, place his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss that was longer and more aggressive and needy then the first.

"No buts," he said, and pecked her forehead. "Never. All that matters here on out is us and taking care of DJ. Everything else…everything else doesn't exist. At least not to me."

"Real life exists," she told him. "Outside of this house real life exists. Our jobs exists."

"Not right now. Right now it's me, you and that amazing little boy of yours. We're the only three people that are here. We're all that matters."

She smiled, then gave herself up to another of his kisses. She would have been quite content to stand there all day, in the middle of her kitchen, lost in his touch and his smell and the taste of his lips. It was overwhelming and incredible to have that kind of affection in her life again. She had never expected in a million years to ever get on with her life. Or need someone as much as she needed him.

He gave a chuckle against her lips, then gave a sheepish smile as his stomach rumbled noisily.

"I should make you something to eat," Sam said, and running her hands along his shoulders, she trailed them down his chest over the fabric of his wife beater, her fingers briefly lingering on the pockets of his jeans before attempting to turn away.

"I got a better idea," Danny told her, and pulled her petite body back into his, his hands resting on the small of her back. "It's Thursday, right?"

She nodded.

"Thursday nights are legendary in the Messer house down there in Staten Island," he said. "My mom's been making manicotti every Thursday night for early forty years. And trust me, her manicotti? Heaven on earth. How about we take a road trip?"

"But what about DJ?" she asked. "He…"

"We toss him in his crib with a bottle and let him fend for himself," Danny replied. Then laughed and pecked the end of her nose. "Obviously he's coming with us. Not like it takes much to take care of him. Couple of bottles and he's good to go, right?"

She nodded. "But your parents aren't expecting us and…"

"I'll give them a call, tell 'em we're on our way. Trust me, Sammie. We won't be imposing. My mom's always on my ass to stop by more. And she'll be over the moon to see you and the baby. Especially the baby. She's having those 'can't wait to be a grandma' moments again. Maybe having DJ to carry around and take care of will keep her off my ass for a bit. Come on…when have you been able to say no to my mom's cooking?"

She sighed. "Are you sure that…"

"That they won't mind? Yeah…I'm sure."

"And what about us, Danny? What do we tell them about us?"

"We tell them the truth," he said. "Or we tell them nothing. If you're ready to let them know, come out in the open with us, then we walk in there acting like a couple. If you're not ready and you went to keep things hush-hush, that's okay too. Just let me know ahead of time, okay?"

She nodded slowly, then moving her hands to his sides, gripped his wife beater tightly. "I'm ready to be open about it," she told him. "I want people to know. About us. I think they deserve to know. To not have us sneaking around. We sneak around it and it seems like we're ashamed. And I'm not ashamed. Are you?"

"Nothing to be ashamed about," he shrugged. "We're okay with it. We sleep good at night with our decisions. If people can't deal with that then…then I guess that's their problem, right?"

She smiled in response. "They deserve to know. They deserve for us to be open and honest about the way we feel about each other."

He nodded in agreement and kissed her softly.

"We deserve that too," he told her.

* * *

**A huge thank you to all of those who are reading and reviewing, and even all the lurkers! I am humbled by the kind and supportive reviews and private messages I have been receiving regarding this story. I am glad that you all are enjoying it, and I look forward to giving you more chapters!**

**Please R and R folks!**

**Special thanks to:**

**Hope4sall**

**CSINYMinute**

**Mynerva24**

**HighQueenReicheru**

**Hopel3ess desire 69**

**Forest Angel**

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**xSamilciousx**

**Delko's Girl 88**

**BlueEyedAuthor**


	17. Chapter 17

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE AND ALL ORIGINAL CHARACTERS.**

**THANKS TO EVERYONE THAT IS ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS! AND TO ALL OF THOSE WHO NOMINATED ME IN THE AWARDS! POLLS CLOSE SOON! PLEASE GO AND CAST YOUR VOTES!**

* * *

**Honest, to a fault**

"She's a yellow pair of running shoes  
A holey pair of jeans  
She looks great in cheap sunglasses  
She looks great in anything  
She's I want a piece of chocolate  
Take me to a movie  
She's I can't find a thing to wear  
Now and then she's moody

She's a Saturn with a sunroof  
With her brown hair a-blowing  
She's a soft place to land  
And a good feeling knowing  
She's a warm conversation  
That I wouldn't miss for nothing  
She's a fighter when she's mad  
And she's a lover when she's loving."  
-She's Everything, Brad Paisley

* * *

"_The National Transportation and Safety Board is vehemently denying a claim by an Arabian terrorist organization that they were the masterminds behind the catastrophe that brought down American Airlines flight 509 over the skies of Virginia, killing all two hundred and sixty three passengers instantly. They are accusing the NTSB and the Department of Homeland Security of covering up the facts and falsifying records, and insist that it was a bomb, not a mechanical malfunction that brought the airline down. The NTSB, along with the Department of Homeland Security are calling the claims groundless and nothing more than a publicity stunt and are assuring the families of those killed on Flight 509 that there was no evidence of a terrorism and that the plane's black boxes confirm an all systems malfunction. NTSB spokesman Dave Kerwin…"_

Keeping one hand firmly on the steering wheel, Danny leaned forward and turned the volume of on the radio. He'd heard enough. In fact, he'd heard enough the moment the words Arabian terrorist organization escaped the reporter's lips. The sick, twisted claims were all over the news. You couldn't turn on the radio or the television or surf the 'net without running across someone talking about it. The story dominated the headlines and had garnered attention all over the world. The fingers of blame were being pointed and speculation and rumour ran rampant. Outraged family members were calling for a public inquiry and asking that the NTSB and DHS be investigated on the claims the terrorists were making.

He didn't believe a goddamn word of it. He didn't buy that there was a bomb on that plane. In the history of all man made air disasters, those responsible were quick to accept responsibility. It was highly unlikely that a claim would come within forty eight hours of a disaster. They were proud of their work and wanted to brag about it to the entire world. Waiting an entire year to announce it, especially on the anniversary of the crash? It didn't make any sense. He truly believed they were capitalizing on the event. That they were using it in order to draw attention to themselves. To make the world sit up and listen and take notice. By blaming the NTSB, DHS and the United States government and accusing the higher powers US citizens trusted to protect them, they were not only instilling wide spread fear and panic, but making a name for themselves as a legitimate threat.

It was bullshit. Danny was a hundred percent certain of it. And what pissed him off the most was that general public was playing right into the terrorists hands. By believing such an outrageous claim, they were in fact, aiding the terrorists in their quest. By allowing themselves to question and to blame, they were giving evil exactly what it wanted. Recognition and power.

And he wasn't going to have any goddamn part in it.

As the SUV coasted to a stop at a red light, he reached up and flipped down the sun visor above his head. Mounted on the visor was a CD holder that Flack had put up himself shortly after he'd purchased the vehicle two years before his death. The same variety of music still took up residence there. Danny hadn't had the heart to take any of the Cds away and had instead just added a couple of his own. Most of Flack's were homemade. Music that he'd downloaded and exported to disk. And on the front of each, in his hand writing, he'd jotted down what era or genre the music was from. Flack had been more the hard rock from the eighties and nineties type of guy. Sometimes dabbling in alternative and very seldom even venturing into hip hop and rap. Sam, on the other hand, liked it all. Everything from classical and pop to retro, metal and gangster rap. And heavy on the country, much to Flack's dismay.

Danny's eyes quickly surveyed the collection of disks before finding one that he liked. Or one that he knew his girlfriend would like. And selecting a CD with SAM'S COUNTRY CRAP scrawled across it in Flack's writing, he leaned forward once more to hit the button for the CD player. Loading the disk, he put the stereo on random and pressing play, turned the volume back up. He glanced over at Sam as she sat in the passenger's seat, her Paris Hilton style shades perched on her face, her hair loose and flowing and no makeup save for sparkling pink lip gloss on her face. Before they'd left the house, she'd insisted on changing out of her 'sloppy, comfy clothes' as she called them, and now wore a pink, yellow and white chequered sun dress with cap sleeves that tied at the small of her back and showed off her curves. Curves she was admittedly disgusted with. As far as she was concerned, the 'baby fat' wasn't coming off quickly enough. She viewed herself as chubby and unattractive. He saw her as amazingly beautiful and incredibly irresistible.

"Hell no…" he'd said, as he'd zipped her dress for her and she'd asked if he found her fat. "You're nothing but all woman baby," he'd assured her, and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, just below her ear. Almost the most sensitive part on her body, or so she claimed.

She'd shivered at the sensation of his moist lips and his warm breath on her skin and she'd given a giggle and quickly wriggled out of his grasp.

"Mind out of the gutter," she'd said, and turning, had ran her fingertips all the way down his chest to his belt buckle. Her eyes had never left his. Brilliant blue locked on simmering golden brown as her fingers toyed with his belt. Then she'd given that devilish smile she'd long ago perfect, and had allowed her hand to drift over the front of his jeans before backing away and walking out of the room.

It had taken all his will power not to chase her down and make them extremely late for showing up to his folks.

She smiled now, as Taylor Swift's Love Story filled the car.

Danny smiled as well, and laying his hand on the top of her head, slowly allowed it to travel down her hair and rest at the nape of her neck. His fingers pushing through the thick veil of hair to drift across her bare skin.

"You've really got to stop doing things like that," Sam declared, giving that musical giggle as she jerked away from him.

"Thought you liked it when I did stuff like that," Danny said with a grin, turning his eyes back to the road as the light turned green. Feeling goose bumps prick up on her skin as his fingertips trailed down her bare arm.

"I do…" she told him. "When we're alone."

"Gotcha…" he gave a laugh and captured her hand in his . Entwining their fingers, he laid their joined hands on the space between their seats. "Alone, huh? So that way you can jump me and take advantage of me?"

"Like I'd really have to take advantage of you," she said with a grin.

"You're right…." he concluded with a nod. "You wouldn't. You just look at me a certain way or give me a sneak peek of whatever sexy little number you got on under your dress there and I'm just ready, willing and able."

She laughed and shook her head. "You've been deprived for way too long," she declared.

"Maybe…or maybe it's 'cause I'm crazy about ya and everything you do or say just gets me going."

She looked over at him and smiled.

"What?" he asked, his thumb softly stroking her wrist and the top of her smooth, tiny hand. "You not used to compliments or something?"

"It's just been a long time since I've been complimented," she admitted. "Since a _man_ has complimented me."

"Than whatever men you've been around are complete bone heads," Danny declared. "How a guy can't find you attractive is beyond me. They're either one of four things. Really stupid, really lying, really blind, or really gay."

She laughed at that. "There's this guy that used to work down at the CVS in downtown Flushing. This really young guy. He couldn't have been more than eighteen, twenty at the oldest. And every time I went in there he'd chat me up, find something to comment about. How I was wearing my hair that day, how the colour of my shirt highlighted my eyes, how nice my shoes were…"

"Your shoes?" Danny chuckled. "So he was obviously not stupid, lying or blind. But if he noticed your shoes he was definitely gay," he teased.

"I think he was just trying to be nice," Sam said. "And that he had absolutely zero flirting skills. Anyway, Don…he was all put out that this much younger guy was putting the moves on his wife. After awhile, he refused to let me go to CVS by myself."

Danny grinned. "Definitely a Flack thing to do. He hated any guy comin' on to his girl."

"Sometimes I used to get so mad at him," Sam admitted. "Because he could be so insanely jealous and possessive."

Danny nodded in agreement. He'd seen that side of Flack more times then he cared to remember.

"…and I'd feel so smothered," she continued, as her right hand came up to her neck and her fingers commenced fiddling with the Hello Kitty pendant she wore around her neck.

The outline of the cartoon character's head dangled from a thin white gold chain and boasted diamonds and pink sapphires for Hello Kitty's bow. Danny could still remember the day that Flack had picked the necklace out. The day before their first Valentine's Day together, the homicide detective had been near frantic as he ran around mid-town in the search for the perfect gift.

"Serves ya right," Danny had chided down his cell phone, after Flack had called him from Macy's in a complete disarray, stressing over not finding anything he thought she'd like. "It's what ya get for leaving it to the last goddamn minute. Just buy her a gift certificate or something. Girls love that shit., That way she can buy whatever the hell she wants."

"Yeah? Well unlike you, I don't pussy out when it comes to the romance thing," Flack had snarled at him. "So either shut the hell up or give me some kind of clue what you think she'd like."

"She's your girlfriend, Flack," Danny had reminded him. "Not mine. And if you don't know what she'd like after seven months, then what's that say about the state of your relationship?"

"You know what it says about you making a smart ass comment like that? It says that you're a fucking moron!" Flack had snapped. And then promptly disconnected the call.

Four hours later, Flack had finally shown up back at the lab, stormed into trace where Danny was working diligently and dropped a blue velvet box in the midst of all the evidence his best friend had been processing.

"If she doesn't like that there's something fucking wrong with her," Flack had declared.

She had loved the Hello Kitty necklace. And the two dozen long stemmed pink roses he'd had delivered to her office and the fancy, no holds barred dinner he'd taken her to at the famed Russian Tea Room. For a guy that was notorious for having no game, Flack had spared no expense and made every other boyfriend on earth look like a complete ass.

* * *

"I felt controlled," she admitted, as she continued to play with her necklace. "He made me feel like this weak, fragile little girl. And yet there were times…there were times I _liked_him being that way. I liked seeing him get all hot under the collar because someone flirted with me or said something inappropriate. Like if a perp made some rude, piggish comment to me. He'd just snap on them. And I actually liked that," she gave a small laugh and shook her head. "I liked it 'cause it was his way of protecting me. And it made me feel…I don't know…it made me feel important to him I guess."

"You were important to him," Danny assured her. "You started being important to him the second you started workin' at the lab. Took it upon himself to be all big brother, chase the monsters away, kick the bad guys asses, protective on you. When you started there…Flack had never been like that before. He'd never had that whole knight in shining armour complex thing going on."

"Knight in tarnished armour," Sam said quietly.

"What's that babe?"

"Knight in tarnished armour," she spoke up. "When I used to tease Donnie about being my hero, my knight in shining armour, he'd joke that it was tarnished armour."

Danny grinned. It was amazing how many things he didn't know about Flack. They'd been best friends and colleagues for years. They'd gone out for many a beer together, spent many a night out at Sullivan's laughing, joking around, getting tanked while shooting pool and darts. They'd played basketball and hockey together. Kicked many a perps ass and solved many a case together. But there were still things he was learning about Flack, even after his death. That softer, more affectionate and attentive side to him. His personal side. Things that were only shared between a husband and wife.

"He was never like that before you," Danny told her. "You know that, right?"

She gave a small nod, her face towards the window. "He just…Donnie used to compliment me all time. He'd always find something sweet and considerate to say. Whether I was all dolled up and glamorous or if I was in my jammies and my hair was a mess and I had zits all over my face. He'd always find something nice to say. It was like he didn't care what I looked like."

"He didn't," Danny said. "He loved you for you. Didn't matter to him what you were wearing, what your hair looked like. None of that."

"When he died…" her voice cracked slightly. "When Don died, all of that died with him. The jealousy, the protectiveness, the compliments…so when you do it? When you do it and it's so sincere? It's overwhelming. Because it's been so long and I…it makes me feels so good. And I haven't felt that way in a long time."

"And that's good, right?" he asked, squeezing her hand. "Feeling that way is good, right?"

She turned to look at him and smiled. "It's more than good," she replied.

"A'right…" he said with a smile, and casting a glance at her, gave her a wink.

She gave his hand a light squeeze. "I'm sorry, Danny," she said.

"For what babe?"

"For talking about Don so much. For remembering all of these things and telling you about them. I just feel like I'm comparing the two of you. And I'm not. Really, I'm not. It just still so painful some days and something always seems to make me think about him and I…"

"And you talk about him 'cause talking about him makes you feel better. 'Cause sharing all this stuff, especially the good stuff, is helping you heal," Danny interjected. "I know you're not comparing me and Flack. I know you're not talking about him 'cause you want to upset me and make me feel like shit. He was your husband, Sammie. You loved him. You probably still love him. And you probably always will."

"I don't think…"

"You will," Danny insisted. "And you know what? That's okay. I get it. I get it and I accept it. It doesn't bother me. I know how much he loved her. How much he adored you. And you talking about him? It's doing you a world of good, trust me. For an entire year you avoided even saying his name. And now? Now you're trusting me with all of this personal stuff about him. And you know what? That's a good thing. It's an amazing thing. You've come a long way, babe. I'm proud of you for that."

She gave a bright smile. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "Most people…most men…wouldn't get it."

"Well I'm not like most men, am I," it was more of a statement then a query. "I do get it, Sammie. Maybe 'cause what happened to Flack also happened to Lindsay. 'Cause we both lost so much and we how fuckin' bad it hurts. Just like we both know that the memories will never go away and the way we feel about them will never disappear. We both feel the same things and we both accept it about each other. You're not going to condemn me for thinking about Linds and I'm not gonna send you to hell for talking about Flack. It's all good, babe. So stop worrying so much about whether you're upsetting me or offending me. You wanna talk about him? Then talk about him. Don't ever shy away from that, okay?"

"Okay…" she said. Then gave a grin. "When did Danny Messer become so wise and logical? What happened to the emotionally on edge Danny Messer that reacted so passionately to things? Who'd run after armed and dangerous perps without Kevlar? Who would 'hit first, talk later'?"

"He's still around. Layin' low. He makes an appearance every now and then when he's on the clock. But off of it…off of it I kinda like this Danny Messer."

"Yeah…" she squeezed his hand once more before letting go of it and curling her arm around his bicep. "I kind of like him, too. But that doesn't mean you can go all soft and girlie on me though," she added quickly.

"I'd never dream of it," he said with a grin. "I know how much you love the manly men."

She just smiled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Do you think there's any stock in it?" she asked after several minutes of companionable silence.

"In what?" he asked, dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head.

"About what those terrorists are saying," she replied. "Do you think any of that is true? Do you really think there was a bomb and that DHS and the NTSB covered it up? So they wouldn't cause wide spread panic? That they…"

"You put on a good front there," he told her. "You didn't even react when that reporter was talking."

"I didn't want you to know how freaked out I am about it," she admitted. "Do you think that…"

"I think it's all a bunch of shit," Danny told her, anger seeping into his voice. "It's just a bunch of nut jobs wanting to make themselves famous. Wanting to stir up shit. They think claiming responsibility for the crash will make everyone sit up and listen and make them a legit threat. It's all about publicity. As sick and twisted as it sounds, they're probably wantin' people to think they're the next Al-Qaeda. Don't listen to it. It's bullshit."

"I just don't understand why they'd say it if it wasn't true," she said.

"For all the reasons I just gave you. No terrorist organization is going to wait a year to claim responsibility for something. They step up right away, while the suffering is still fresh. So they can add insult to injury. Like pouring rubbing alcohol on a festerin' wound, you know? They pounce right away so that people will take 'em seriously. So they look like the shit to the whole world. They're not going to wait an entire year."

"They would if they think it would make the nightmare of what they're saying even worse," Sam said.

"Babe, trust me on this. They're full of shit. They're capitalizing on the anniversary. 'Cause they know emotions are raw and that people are still looking for someone to blame. They know that by saying all this shit a year later, they'll get people all freaked out. Not just the families, but NTSB, DHS, CIA, FBI…anything related to the government. Blame them and it ruins our trust in the system, right?"

"Do you actually trust the system, Danny?" she asked gently.

"NTSB and DHS are not lying," he insisted. "It was an accident, Sammie. A catastrophic mechanical failure. They wouldn't lie about that."

"They're the government, Danny. And when is the government ever totally honest about anything?"

"Why would they lie, Sammie? Why would they make something like that up? Give me one logical reason why they would keep something like that back. Why in the hell would they say it was a systems failure when it was a bomb?"

"Why do they keep a lot of things back?" she countered. "All through history there's always been lying and corruption. When haven't they been hiding something?"

"Don't be going all Mel Gibson Conspiracy Theory on me, babe."

"I'm just saying…"

"I know what you're saying. I know you're getting yourself all worked up about this whole thing. I know that it makes you feel better to have someone to blame for what happened. I know you want someone to point the finger at and be raging pissed with. And I get that and you have that right. But trust me. Do not believe a goddamn word that these nut jobs are saying. It's crap. It's a scare tactic. There' s no one to blame for what happened. They can be sick, twisted bastards all they want. They can get their kicks by claiming responsibility but at the end of the day, it all comes down to one thing. That it changes nothing. Blaming someone is not going to bring Don and Lindsay back. And it sure as hell isn't going to make us feel any better about losing them. They're gone. Simple as. It was a tragic accident. That's it."

She sighed heavily, and releasing her grip on his arm, sat up straight in her seat and snatched her purse from it's resting spot at her feet. "How can you be so sure?" she asked.

"'Cause it doesn't make any sense," he replied. "No sense at all. They're trying to scare people. And it's obviously working as far as you're concerned. And honestly Sam? Hypothetically speaking? What's going to happen if it is true? If it was a bomb. If the NTSB and DHS lied and it was a bomb. What's that going to do? Nothing. 'Cause two hundred and sixty three people are still going to be dead and you're still going to be a widow and DJ still won't have a father."

"You don't think I know that?" she sniffled, as she rummaged through her purse. "You don't think I'm perfectly aware that he doesn't have a dad? That he doesn't have _his _dad? I know Don's gone. I know nothing is ever going to bring him back. And I'm not going to sit here and lie to you and tell you that that I wouldn't give anything to have Donnie back! Just like I wouldn't want you to lie to me and tell me you wouldn't give anything to have Linds back."

"Sam…just listen to me…" he implored, as he coasted to a stop at the curb in front of the modest, red brick back split his folks had lived in for forty-two years. His old man, Louie Messer Sr was sitting on the top step, the paper spread out on the porch as he smoked a cigarette and swigged a bottle of beer. As the SUV pulled up, he glanced up and gave a nod in greeting.

"Maybe blaming someone makes me feel better, Danny. Maybe it helps me deal with what happened better. 'Cause then I have some kind of control over what happened. By being able to point the finger and say, 'that person did it', I have control over what happened to my husband. And I haven't had that! It being an accident…I can't accept that 'cause I can't blame anyone for it!"

"But you can't control it, Samantha!" he exclaimed, then softened his voice when DJ gave a startled cry from his car seat firmly secured in the back seat. "You can't control it. No one can control it. It happened. We can't go back in time and change it. Just like if you or I were on that plane we couldn't have stopped it from happening. You need to just come to terms with the fact that it was an accident. That no one was to blame. Get over this shit about not being able to control it and just deal with it. 'Cause what you're doing to yourself, Sam? The way you're hanging on to that anger and that blame? You're just getting in the way of healing. That's all your doing."

"Don't you ever want to blame someone?" she asked. "Don't you ever just want to find someone you can blame, Danny?"

"Maybe a year ago, eight months ago, six months ago even, I did. But not now. 'Cause me being pissed off and bitter? That's just going to destroy me. And it'll destroy you. And I don't want to see that happening to you, Sam. And DJ…he needs you. He needs you to be strong for him. You're his mommy. You and Flack made this amazing, incredibly beautiful baby together. You created life together. And you owe it to him and to Flack to give him everything you have. He needs you. And you need him."

"Sometimes I wish Lindsay had never taken my place," she muttered. "If I'd have gone we'd all be better off."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Danny snorted, and unclipped his seat belt.

"If I had have gone instead of Lindsay, she'd still be here. With you. And you wouldn't have gone through what you did."

"But you know what Sam? I did go through it. Lindsay died and I was a fucking basket case for the better part of a year. Just 'cause I didn't show it doesn't mean I didn't feel it. You don't think I'm angry? You don't think there's times I rant and I rave and I wish her back? You don't think it fucking tears my gut out that I lost my fiancee and my best friend? My grief has nothing to do with you! It is in no goddamn way your fault, understand me?"

"But I…"

"But you fucking nothing!" he snapped. "I may have been angry for a long time. It may still hurt like a bitch some days, but not once have I ever looked at you and wished you had gone on that plane instead of Lindsay! Not once have I ever wished you dead to have her back! And for you to sit here and say that to me…" he shook his head and struggled to compose himself. "Don't you ever say anything like that ever again. You're here and you're alive 'cause of that little boy back there. Flack's son. That's why you're here. Things happen for a reason, Sam. And DJ is that reason."

"I know that. But let's face it Danny, if Don and Lindsay hadn't have died, we wouldn't be here right now."

He visibly winced at her words. "You're right, Sammie…" he admitted. "We wouldn't. We'd be living our happy lives. Our _old _lives. You'd still be Mrs Donald Flack Jr and you guys would probably talking about adding to the gene pool a second time. And Lindsay and I would be married and wanting kids of our own. But you know what? They did die and we are here. And maybe there's a silver lining to them dying."

Sam arched an eyebrow as she stared at him long and hard.

"Them being gone? And us helping each other through everything? How close we got? That wouldn't have happened if they were here. If they were I never would have fallen in love with you like I have."

She blinked, completely taken aback by his bold confession.

"Now can we just get the hell out this truck?" he asked, as he turned to reach for the handle on his door. "'Cause my old man is watching us like a hawk and pretty soon he's going to make his way down here and he'll…"

Reaching out, Sam laid a hand on the back of his neck and yanked him towards her. As he turned to face her and question what she was doing, she surprised him by covering his lips in a passionate, lingering kiss. He resisted at first, startled by her aggressive, bold move with his father only mere meters away. But as her lips moved insistently against his and his senses were flooded by her soft, feminine scent, all of his hesitation evaporated. Tangling his fingers in her dark, silky tresses, he returned the kiss eagerly and hungrily. Their tongues gliding against each other, their hearts pounding in their chests, their heads spinning and their stomachs fluttering as they quickly became lost in the immensely intense moment.

* * *

A loud knock on the driver's side window brought an abrupt to the kiss. Sam jumped back, initially startled, than extremely embarrassed as she spotted Danny's father, a smirk on his face, peering into the SUV, his knuckles against the glass as he prepared to knock again.

"Busted," Danny said, giving Sam a grin before straightening his glasses that had become askew on his face and then turning to roll down his window. "What's up, dad?"

"I was just wondering if the two of you were planning on actually getting out of the car or staying in there and giving the neighbours a free show all night?" he inquired, his forearms resting on the window ledge.

"Well, until the interruption things were heading towards the free show," Danny replied.

"Mm-hm…" Louie Senior's eyes shifted back and forth between his youngest son and a furiously blushing Samantha Flack.

The young woman had been a frequent and welcome visitor. She and her husband had been over for dinner and family events several times, and after he'd passed Danny had seemed to be in the constant presence of his best friend's grieving widow. So much so, he'd been the one who'd seen her through her pregnancy and subsequent child birth. She had become a recluse. Closing out everyone except Danny.

"Your ma's waiting on the two of you," the elder Messer said, as he stepped back from the vehicle. "And you know better than to keep your ma waiting."

"We'll be in in a second," Danny promised. Then frowned as his father lingered by the door. "Dad…in a second…" he insisted firmly.

Louie Senior gave a curt nod and shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans, turned on his heel and headed back towards the house.

"Second time he's caught me with a girl," Danny told Sam, as he rolled his window back up. "First time, I was fourteen and he came home early from work and caught me on the living room couch with Maria DeLuca. And when I say caught, I mean butt ass naked. Old man came strolling in before I had a chance to…" he halted his story when he heard a distinctive snorting noise coming from the passenger's seat. He looked over at Sam and chuckled when he found her sunglasses perched on the top of her head, her hands over her face and her entire body shaking as she laughed hysterically. "Did you just snort?" he asked in mock horror.

She nodded.

"How lady like…" he teased her and ran a hand over her hair. "I guess this is déjà vu for you, huh?"

"What's that suppose to mean?" she asked, as she removed her hands from her face and wiped at her eyes with her fingertips.

"Getting caught making out with a dude in his car. Must bring back some memories about that night you and Flack got pinched with your pants down under the Brooklyn Bridge by a couple of patrol men."

"Oh my God!" she shrieked, her cheeks turning an even more vibrant shade of red. "You know about that?!"

"Uh…yeah…" Danny tried his best not to laugh. "I think everyone knew about that."

"I can't believe he would tell people! I swear to God, when I get to the other side, I am royally kicking that man's ass," she shook her head. "'Come on, Sammie,'" she mimicked Flack's voice. "'It'll be hot. I can't believe you've never made out in a car before and you're thirty! Let's go and find a nice quiet, dark place and I'll show ya what you missed out on.' Can you honestly believe that is the line he gave me?"

"I can't believe you actually fell for that."

"He tells me it's completely abandoned at that time of night. That no one would see us. That no cops would come along. Yeah…right. Just when things start getting good, someone's knocking on the window and shining a flashlight on us. And who does the patrol man turn out to be? Some guy he went to the academy with and whose dad is close personal friends with my future father in law. By the time we got home, Don Senior had left this message on the apartment answering machine. Telling us he was going to be having a great laugh down at the pub with all his buddies about his son being caught with his bare ass in the air."

Danny couldn't hold back the grin.

"I can't believe Donnie would tell you about that. I mean, I get that best friends talk and all…"

"It wasn't Flack that told me," Danny told her. "I heard it through the lab grape vine. Guess that patrol man went around the spread the word that Junior was caught doing the nasty in a public place. And that his girl owns the sexiest underwear he's ever seen."

Sam roared with laughter. "It was barely there red lace thong with little bows on the hip. Don got mad at the guy 'cause he thought he was looking at little too much. So he tossed my panties at him and told him to keep them as a souvenir."

"Guy probably kept him too. Somewhere out there, your underwear are hanging off a rear view mirror of a patrol car."

"Probably," Sam laughed. "I couldn't believe he did that. Those underwear cost me forty bucks."

"If you want, I'll personally go around and check every patrol car looking for your undies," Danny teased.

"So very noble of you," she chided. "Wanting to preserve my honour by hunting down the keeper of the sacred Vicki's Secret panties."

"Well that too…" Danny twirled a piece of her hair around his finger. "But I was just going to do it so that you can wear 'em again and I can be the one to undo those little bows."

"Perv!" she cried, and playfully pushed him away from her.

"I can't help it. I'm a red blooded male and I'd kill to see you in those undies. And get a hold of those little bows…" he leaned across the seat, and laying a hand on the back of her neck, pulled her into them. "And you know what I'd do with them little bows?" he asked, the ends of their noses touching.

She shook her head and bit her lip in anticipation.

"I'd make short work of them…" he whispered. "With my teeth."

She suppressed a shudder. "That so just turned me on," she declared.

He grinned and kissed her into they were both breathless. "I'd say let's hop in the back, but considering we're on a public street and it's still light out…."

"And DJ is back there…" Sam added.

"…and we don't want to corrupt the rug rat," Danny continued. "I think the safest thing for both of us would be to just get our asses inside."

She nodded in agreement.

"That and we got about five minutes before my mom comes out here in her apron, waving her rolling pin, wondering what the hell is taking so long."

Sam giggled and undid her seat belt. "She is not that bad," she said.

"Oh she is…I could tell you horror stories of her taking a ruler to my ass many a times…but seeing as…"

His words were cut off as the distinct sound of the screen door banging open caught his attention.

"Uh oh…" he said, looking out Sam's window. "Here comes Aunt Jemima now."

"You are so mean!" Sam scolded him, and attempted to smack his shoulder, only to have him capture her by the wrist and pulled her into a scorching kiss.

"I figure the old man got a show, why not the old lady," Danny laughed, after he'd broken away. "You ready for this?" he asked, his eyes gentle as they searched her face for any sign of hesitation or nervous.

Sam nodded and gave a soft smile as she regarded him adoringly.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she said.

* * *

**I want to thank all of my readers for their support not only for this story, but for my others as well! Words can not express the depth of appreciation I feel for all of you. I also want to thank you for the multiple nominations in the awards. I am truly humbled.**

**Please R and R folks!**

**Special thanks to:**

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**Forest Angel**


	18. Chapter 18

****

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN….YOU KNOW THE REST BY NOW!

**OKAY, BEFORE I COMPLETELY LOSE MYSELF IN MY EXCITEMENT, I MUST DO TWO THINGS.**

**1. THANK EVERYONE WHO VOTED FOR ME IN THE AWARDS**

**2. CONGRATULATE ALL THE WINNERS AND RUNNERS UP.**

**NOW HERE WE GO….EXCUSE ME FOR THIS MOMENT OF NARCISSISM WOULD YOU?**

**FIVE FIRST PLACES!**

_**BEST ANGST (MEMORIES OF BROOKLYN)**_

_**BEST ROMANCE (VIEWS FROM BROOKLYN)**_

_**BEST DANNY/OC STORY (TOGETHER WE'LL FALL)**_

_**BEST DANNY/OC PAIRING (DANNY AND SAM ROSS-FLACK)**_

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**AND FIVE RUNNERS UP!**

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**WOW GUYS…JUST WOW. WORDS CAN'T EXPRESS HOW MUCH I LOVE ALL OF YOU! I COULD NEVER THANK YOU ALL ENOUGH.**

**NOW ON WITH THE SHOW!**

* * *

**A United Front**

"Some say love is not for sinners  
I believe that isn't true  
'Cause when I was finished sinning  
Love came down and showed me you  
And you told me how to get there  
So I tried to find a way  
Then I ran into your garden  
But I tripped out the gate  
I tripped out the gate."  
-Trip, Hedley

* * *

Although taken back by the display of affection that had taken place before her -between her youngest son and the woman he'd once claimed to love like a sister- Rosa Messer didn't miss a beat. The moment Samantha opened the passenger side door of the SUV and stepped out onto the curb, she found herself wrapped tightly in the tiny Italian woman's embrace. Rosa, with her shoulder length stark black hair that she always wore in a tight bun and her youthful, smooth face, was two inches and fifteen pounds lighter than Sam. The random strands of grey in her shimmering tresses were the only tell tales signs of age.

She was as slight and spry -and as stunning, as Louie Senior liked to add- as she was when the couple met nearly forty-five years ago when they were both Juniors at Saint Bernadette's High School in the Bronx. Louie, a born and bred tough as nail Bronx kid, had fallen hard and fast for the woman he still looked upon as the most beautiful, angelic soul that he'd ever met. Rosa was the new kid in school that year. A shy and artistic girl who'd just moved there with her family from Staten Island, she was the object of every guys affection. And she successfully, in her quiet, gentle way, turned each and every one of them down.

Until Louie Messer Senior had devised a plan to get closer to her without her even realizing what he was up to. A month into the new school year, it had become as clear as day that Rosa Marchetti was a brainer. She had sat in the seat in front of him in home room and he had always peeking over her shoulder and into her binder when she had it open. When he wasn't too pre-occupied noticing how glorious she smelled and how amazing those 'get away sticks' were as they peeked out from underneath the hem of her school quilt.

When he wasn't busy sniffing her hair or admiring her 'assets', he was acquainting himself with her handwriting -lovely, swirling and delicate letters that just spoke of her artistic beauty so he said, even years later- and the fact that every time she received a test or an assignment back, she did so with an huge A, printed in bright red ink, on the top of it. The teacher, a miserable old bat of a woman -Mrs. Kennedy, Louie often recalled, although he and the others boys always referred to her as Battle Axe- always presented Rosa's assignments to her with a wide smile and a heap of praise, then would step alongside of Louie's desk, that smile quickly turning into a frown as she dropped his work onto his desk without a word.

Even though he wasn't that interested in school and couldn't give a rat's ass less if he earned straight F's for his entire life -he was in school until he was eighteen and then he was going into the sanitation business for the city just like every other male Messer before him- he'd hatched a plan to make Rosa his own. He'd made up a bald faced lie that his father was going to take the belt to him if he earned one more failing grade and lamented about not knowing what to do to boost his marks. It had been her idea to offer her services as a tutor. Falling for his bullshit hook, line and sinker. Before she knew it, she herself was being tutored in far more important, 'life subjects' and Louie became the most respected and envied guy in the entire school.

Two years later, they were married a week out of high school and were still living in the Bronx and expecting their first child, Louie Anthony Junior. Senior made good on his word to get into the sanitation department while Rosa had decided she'd been a full time, stay at home mom and wife. Louie Junior had been the apple of her eye. A bright, vibrant and beautiful little boy with a head full of black hair and huge brown eyes that warmed the coldest of soul. For three years it was Louie Junior and mommy. Two peas in a pod. Doing everything and going everywhere together. She was entirely devoted to her son and was happy with just the one child. Her patience dictated if she wanted to take a foray into parenthood again. And up until Louie's third birthday, her patience had kept her on the rhythm method and by the grace of God, had successfully seen that she was without child.

On the morning of Louie Junior's birthday party, Rosa had woken up sicker then a dog and promptly announced to her husband that she was pregnant. A mother just knew. And her heart and her body was telling her that another child would be gracing their lives soon. Her husband had waved it off and told her it was all in her imagination. She had gotten pregnant in three years and she wasn't pregnant now. She probably had come down with the flu or something.

At that time, there'd been no home pregnancy tests and no ultrasounds, so good old fashioned blood work two weeks later had confirmed what Rosa had been suspecting from day one. She was pregnant. Seven months later, she found herself screaming bloody murder in the front seat of her husband's Buick sedan on Lexington Avenue after she'd told him to stop on the way to the hospital because the baby was coming NOW. Senior had gone frantic and after parking the car on the side of the road, left his heavily pregnant and labouring wife alone while he ran for help.

He'd managed to flag down two NYPD patrolmen. And it had been those cops that had assisted Rosa and had been the ones solely responsible for bringing a perfectly healthy baby boy into the world in the most insane place and under the most crazy of circumstances.

Daniel Giovanni Messer's birth had been household news. News reporters had shown up at the hospital a day later to talk to his parents and to snap pictures of the happy little family. They'd even arranged for the two cops who'd delivered him to come in for a photo opportunity. Louie Senior even had all of the newspaper clippings and pictures stored away in an old shoe box. One of them being a faded and wrinkled photo of a day old Danny being held in the big, strong arms of one of the cops. A tall, broad shouldered Irish kid, his black hair just poking out from the sides of his uniform cap and a piercing blue eyes. A dimple denting his left cheek as he smiled and his name plate on his left chest displaying the name D. FLACK.

That had been Danny's initial brush with anyone with the last name Flack. Two and a half decades later, he'd found himself sauntering up to his first crime scene after just passing the CSI exam a week earlier, all arrogance and narcissistic pride, as he approached the lone detective that stood alongside of the previously erected crime scene tape A tall, skinny kid in a black leather jacket and wavy black, shoulder length hair that framed his baby face and brought attention to his intense, oceanic eyes. Danny had never seen him before, and was slightly put off by the fact that the responding detective was so green. That he didn't even look old enough to have graduated from the academy let alone have earned his way up into a detective position.

"What we got?" Danny asked, ignoring all formalities and getting straight down to business.

"Dead body," the detective replied in a deep voice that bore a Queens accent, his eyes never leaving the note pad clutched in his hand, his pen never slowing down as he took frantic yet nearly ineligible notes.

"No shit Sherlock," the CSI snorted. "What kind of DB are we looking at?"

"One that's been there a few days considering the look and the smell of him," the younger man responded. And then calmly flicking his pen closed and tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket, looked down at Danny with a scowl on his face. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. "Who are you?" he asked curiously.

"Who does it look like I am?" Danny retorted, holding up his face. "Crime Scene Investigator."

"Okay Mister Crime Scene Investigator," a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of the detective's lips. "But do you have an actual name to go along with the shit ass attitude or…"

"Danny Messer," he introduced himself, offering his free hand. "And you would be?"

"Don Flack…homicide…" the other man said, and shook the hand held out to him. "People just call me Flack."

"You don't see a problem with people callin' you by your last name all the time?" Danny asked, as the detective lifted the crime scene tape and motioned for the CSI to go first.

The younger man shrugged. "Guess I just like it better than being called by my first name. Don's just a little too…I just don't do the name, Don…okay?"

"How about Donnie or Donald?" Danny inquired.

"Not if you want to live to see next week," the detective told him, and flashed a dimpled grin.

* * *

They had become instant friends that day. Bonding over a rather nasty smelling and looking dead body in that alleyway in Jackson Heights. Within a week they'd discovered their uncanny ability to carry on sarcastic, humorous banter with each other. Flack began making regular appearances up at the lab whether he or Danny were working a case together or not. They'd go for smoke and coffee breaks together, grab a bite of lunch or something for supper if time permitted. They began heading out to bars after their shifts and on shared nights off. Flack invited Danny to come and play basketball out in Harlem at Rucker Park where he was, self admitted resident Larry Bird. Only tall white kid in a hundred yard radius, he often laughed. Soon after they both joined the department hockey and baseball team and had gotten used to their co-workers referring to them as Mutt and Jeff.

It hadn't been until nearly a year later that Danny had put two and two together that his Flack was related to the Flack that had brought him into the world years earlier. It had never occurred to him that one had anything to do with the other. It had been a long time since he'd given a thought to how he'd come into the world and who'd helped escort him in. He had heard talk around the lab and from other officers and detectives down in the precinct that Flack came from some sort of NYPD royalty. But Danny had shied away from the gossip and just minded his own business. Didn't matter to him who Flack was related to or how big the shoes were he was expected to fill. Just like Flack didn't give a shit about Danny's family being well known for getting mixed up with unsavoury characters and the Tanglewood boys after their move to Staten Island when Danny was just a pre-teen.

It was Rosa, when meeting her son's best friend for the first time, who had made the immediate connection between father and son. She hadn't needed to hear his last name to know who Flack belonged to. The moment that the detective had walked through her front door - now in Staten Island, where she and Louie Senior had moved their family after both Danny and Louie Junior began getting mixed up with the wrong crowed in the Bronx - she had known. She remembered that tall, intimidating presence and those blue eyes very well. He was the spitting image of his father and she'd excitedly embraced him -much to his surprise and chagrin- and made him sit on the couch and wait for her while she got out that old shoe box to show him the clippings of Danny's birth.

Flack had never let him live that down. Being the baby born in the back of the Buick that his father had often talked about while he was growing up. It had been, in all of his years on the job, the one and only time that Flack Senior had had to assist in delivering a baby. And it wasn't until his own son was born four years afterwards that he'd ever witness the miracle of life again. Although the old man wasn't as open minded and forgiving as Flack when it came to the tarnished Messer name. He didn't remember Danny as that newborn baby he'd cradled so tender in his arms. All the he from the moment he'd met Danny as a grown man was that he was from bad stock. That his family had been, and always would be, up to no good. He'd even warned his son to cut ties with 'the Messer kid'.

Flack had ignored his father. He'd spent his entire life not paying attention to his old man and he certainly wasn't about to start caring about what the bastard thought about who he made friends with.

Rosa and Louie Senior, on the other hand, had welcomed 'Juney' as they affectionately nicknamed him, into their family without a moments hesitation. They had loved Flack's easy going, affable manner. Outside of work and in the friendly confines of the Messer home, he was fully at ease and relaxed. He smiled and laughed easily, he charmed Rosa and got along with Louie Senior regardless of his past. Flack enjoyed being with Danny's family because his own -especially his old man- always made him feel as if he was being judged. That one wrong word or one false move would have him on their shit lists for a hell of a long time. And when he was around his dad, he always felt as if he had to discuss work. It was the only thing the two of them had in common. And they seldom agreed on the way Flack was handling his career and the cases he was working. With Danny's folks, he could be Don the human and not just Don the cop.

Flack just had something about him that you couldn't help but love. It was in the way he so effortlessly and sincerely tossed compliments Rosa's way. How he'd take her tiny face in his hands and kissed both her cheeks and call her Bella. Then wink at Louie Senior and tell him to keep an eye on his pretty bride or he'd would whisk her off into the sunset. It was the way he'd make his best friend's mother beam with delight when he praised her cooking and never turned down an offer of second -or thirds- and always, at the end of the night, accepted a plastic shopping full filled to bursting with Tupperware containers that held enough leftovers and baked goods to last a month. Well, that would last a _normal_ person a month.

"Now that's a kid with a damn good head on his shoulders," Louie Senior had declared more than once.

"Doesn't hurt that he's tall, dark and exceptionally handsome either," Rosa would chime in, blushing furiously. She was self-admittedly in love with the blue eyed detective from Queens. And wasn't ashamed to tell you about it either.

The Messers had adored Flack. And when he'd brought a nervous Samantha into the folk -he had carted her along to their home for Sunday dinner a month into their relationship and had, with his hand on the small of her back and a proud smile on his face, presented her to Louie Senior and Rosa.

"Mama and Papa Messer," he'd said. "This is my Sammie."

Like they had with Flack years before, they had taken to the petite brunette smoothly and easily. She was, after she got past her initial shyness, feisty and bubbly and engaging. Fiercely intelligent and quick witted, she often brought sheepish grins to both Danny and Flack's faces and colour to their cheeks with a sarcastic comment or light hearted teasing. It had been clear to see that Flack was head over heels in love. He gazed upon her adoringly and was attentive to her wants and needs. He exposed an affectionate, vulnerable side to himself and had single handily broke down every protective barrier she had built around herself.

It hadn't surprised any one when the young couple had become engaged. And the morning of the wedding, Rosa had paid a visit to the bride as she stayed at a hotel with her maid of honour and bridesmaids and asked her if she would wear the pearl and diamond earrings that had once belonged to her grandmother, and which every female after her had worn on their wedding day. Including Rosa herself. Sam had deeply touched by the sentiment, and quickly accepted the honour of making use of the precious heirloom.

The Messers had been surprised however, to find themselves seated along with the Donald Flack Senior and his wife Patricia at the family table at the reception. And absolutely no one from the Ross side safe for Samantha's younger brother Adam who was taking up residence at the head table, in his full glory as an usher.

"This is where you belong, Mama Messer," Flack had assured Rosa when she questioned why she and her husband were seated with family. "Between you and I…" he'd lowered his voice so his own folks wouldn't here. "I like you guys better than my real parents. And Sammie…well she loves you guys and it would mean the world to her and I'd love you forever if you sat there. As her family."

* * *

And now, just over a year and a half later, as she embraced Samantha Flack on the front curb outside of her home, Rosa Messer did so as a mother hugging her own child.

"Bella…" she gushed, and kissed each of the young woman's cheeks softly. "Look at you…" she held Sam out at arms length. "You look wonderful. There's just something so different about you."

"You trying to say that she normally looks ugly, ma?" Danny asked from the opposite side of the SUV, door open as he leaned into the back.

"That is not what I am trying to say," Rosa replied. "I am simply telling her how lovely she is. And that I noticed something different about her. Colour to her cheeks, a sparkle to her eyes…"

"A smile on my face?" Sam finished.

"Exactly…" the older woman patted the sides of Sam's face gently. "Smiling is good. Good for the soul. Good for youth. You keep smiling like that, you'll live to be a hundred. It's also a sign. You've got something to smile about."

"For the first time in a long time…" Sam said, casting a glance and a smile over at shoulder at Danny as he walked around the back of the SUV and joined the two women on the small patch of grass between the sidewalk and front lawn. "…I've got a lot to smile about," she finished, her arm snaking around Danny's waist, her hand resting on the small of his back.

"I take it that this wasn't just a random thought on my son's part to just pop over for dinner," Rosa said, as she observed the sight in front of her.

Her youngest son giving the woman alongside of him a tender smile before leaning in close to press a kiss to her temple. Standing there, the were nothing but a young couple, on the brink of finding love after experiencing such tragic and profound losses. She wasn't entirely surprised that it had happened. After all of the help her son had given to Samantha during the past year and essentially combating his own grief by helping Flack's widow conquer her own, it wasn't a shock that deeper, more intimate feelings had developed. And while she knew most casual observers would question the validity of those feelings, Rosa knew, by just one look, that the emotions passing between the two were genuine.

And lasting.

"And here I was thinking that you were missing your mother," she teased her son, slapping his shoulder playfully with the dish rag in her hand.

"I'm always missing you, mommy," Danny assured her and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "I'm a good little Italian boy, remember? We always miss and adore our mothers."

She smiled brightly.

"Well that and we get tired of eating out of cans and ordering take out and we crave some home cooking," he added.

"You!" Rosa swatted him with the towel once again. "You've always been a smart mouth, you know that? So when did this happen?"

"When did what happen?" Danny asked.

"You. The two of you. You were here two weeks and the two of you weren't like this."

"What are we like mom?" he inquired. "We're just standing here talking to ya."

"You know what I'm talking about. The moment that I just so happened to catch on my way out here. And do you think I'm blind? You think I don't see that she has her arm around you? Or the way that the two of you are looking at each other? I may be old, but my eyes are in working order."

"It happened a couple of days ago." Danny told her. "We just…it just happened. We woke up and discovered what was right in front of us. That's all. Nothing else to it."

She nodded slowly, her eyes flickered back and forth between them.

"Well are you going to say anything about it?" Danny asked, nervousness creeping into his voice. "Are you going to tell us you're okay with it? That we're making a huge mistake? That we're…"

Rosa smiled and laid a hand on both of their faces. "I am going to tell you both that you found each other, truly found each other, when you both needed someone the most. And that if this is what you truly want, then no one has the right to stand in your way or judge you. It makes me happy to see the smiles you've put on each other's faces. And God knows its been a long time since you've both smiled."

Danny nodded in agreement.

"After everything that happened…well you're my son and I love you…and to know that you're happy…to see that? That is the greatest gift a mother could receive."

"I am happy mom," he assured her. "We're both happy."

"Then that's all that matters," she said. "Now…let Nonni Rosa see that beautiful little bundle you've got there."

"He's getting big mom," Danny told her, as he set the car seat on the grass. "Big and heavy."

"He's suppose to be getting bigger and heavier," she said, as she crouched down in front of the carrier. "Look at you nonni's precious boy!" she gushed, as she unclasped the fasteners and then peeled the smiling, cooing baby out of the car seat. "Aren't you just the most lovely little boy in the world," she said to the infant, as she resting DJ along her arm and stood up.

"Don't swell his head even more," Danny teased. He gave Sam a smile and reaching out to take her hand, squeezed it tightly and gave her a wink.

Relief was written all over her face. He knew she'd been worried about what his parents, especially his mother, would say about them being together. She had been preparing herself for immediate repulsion and rejection. She had known how much the Messer family had loved Lindsay, and she didn't want them to think that she was attempting to take the other woman's place.

"He is just so beautiful and so perfect," Rosa breathed, as she combed her fingers through DJ's silky black hair. "He looks exactly like his father."

Sam gave a sad smile and a nod.

"Juney would be so proud," Rosa said. "Rest assured that he's looking down at both of you and he's giving that pig in shit grin about how amazing and gorgeous his baby boy is. This is his legacy. The reason why God insisted on sparing you and taking Lindsay. DJ was that reason. You were meant to live so that you could give Juney a son. You realize that, don't you?"

"I never thought about it that way," Sam admitted. "I think I've been too busy blaming myself for Lindsay's death that I never took time to think about things that way."

"Blame comes so easy, doesn't it?" Rosa asked. "It's always so easy to point the finger. To shoulder it all alone. Things happen for a reason. I'm a firm believer in that. You were spared so that this little boy could be grace the world with his presence. To give you something that would keep his father alive inside of you forever. Inside of him."

"I just wish thinking that way came a little easier," Sam said, and gave a nervous laugh. "Because there's days…there's just some really, really hard days still."

Danny smiled sympathetically and softly ran his thumb along the top of her hand.

"It will get easier," Rosa promised her. "Each day that goes by will get a little easier. You've taken that first step. And some days it will one step forward and two steps back, but you're going to be okay. Danny will make sure of that."

"Absolutely," he declared, and leaned in to kiss Sam's cheek softly.

"And you've got a lot of people that love you and this little boy here," Rosa told her. "You're not alone in this. We've got big hearts and you and baby Juney are our family. I don't call myself Nonni Rosa for nothing you know."

"Here I was thinking you were calling yourself that 'cause you're dying for me to give you grandkids," Danny chided.

"Baby Juney will do for now," his mother said, as she turned and headed towards the house. "But just for now. Don't be making me wait forever for a Danny Junior."

"Ma! We just hooked up!" Danny exclaimed, as he and Sam followed behind her hand in hand. "Don't be counting your chickens before they hatch, a'right? We'd like to enjoy each other before Sammie ends up bare foot and pregnant and learning the secret behind your homemade pasta sauce."

"You two have lots of time to enjoy each other," she informed him as she climbed the front steps. "I'm no spring chicken. I'd like a grandbaby, one you had a hand in creating before I'm six feet under."

"I'll be putting ya six feet under if you don't knock the grandbaby crap off," Danny mumbled, as his mother opened the screen door and he let go of Sam's hand in order to hold it wide for the ladies.

"Only way I'm going to knock it off is if you come and tell me sooner than later that you've put a bun in the oven," Rosa said, and disappeared into the house.

"Can you believe her?" Danny asked Sam. "What is it with mothers and their unhealthy obsession with having grandbabies? Were you all born with a certain gene that flicks on when you hit a certain age and starts ya off nagging at your sons to procreate?"

"One baby is enough for me," Sam declared. "For now anyway," she added quickly.

"How about we just enjoy the whole practicing baby making and forgo the actual event itself?" Danny asked. "What's the saying? Practice means perfect?"

Sam gave a devilish smile, and standing on her tiptoes, covered his lips with hers in a slow, soft kiss before panting him on the cheek lightly and stepping into the house. "Trust me Danny," she said over her shoulder. "You definitely don't need practice. There's nothing at all wrong with your technique."

He grinned as she blew him a kiss and disappeared into the house.

_I am definitely in trouble with that one, _he thought as he followed behind. _And the good kind of trouble at that._

* * *

The three glasses of red wine she'd consumed at dinner had quickly gone to Samantha's head. Having not touched even the smallest drop of alcohol in over a year, three glasses may have well been thirty. And as nine thirty hit, and her body slightly tingly and her head in a blissful state of fuzziness, she and Danny had bid his parents good night and after buckling DJ and themselves back into the SUV, began the forty five minute drive home to Flushing, Queens.

It had been an enjoyable, relaxing evening. Rosa's homemade manicotti and the tiramisu she'd served afterwards had been incredible. And as the men in their lives drank a few beers and smoked cigarettes on the covered back porch, the two women had lounged in the kitchen with their wine and Rosa had entertained Sam with stories of Danny and Louie Junior growing up. Successfully leaving out any references to Sonny Sassone or the rest of the Tanglewood boys. Sam knew it was sore spot for the Messer family. As was trying to foot the bill for Louie's care at the nursing home and dealing with the after effects of the beating that he'd suffered. Rosa stuck to tales about her sons playing practical jokes on each other and their parents. And the constant issues they'd caused for themselves at school because of their inability to keep their mouths shut.

Not once did the conversation turn towards the crash or the news that a terrorist organization was claiming to be responsible for it a year later. Sam's emotions were frayed enough. A million and one thoughts were swirling through her head. From trying to dispute what the allegations of a government cover up, to what her family and friends were going to think about her new relationship. She couldn't shake the slight guilt that plagued her. The feeling that she was doing her husband a major disservice and great disrespect by choosing his best friend to be the man she created a new life.

Don would want her to move on. In her heart of hearts she knew that. He knew that he'd be kicking her ass for thinking so negatively. That he'd be telling her that it's okay. That she deserved to be happy and to love someone again. And that she deserved to be loved in return. He certainly wouldn't want her to be alone and miserable forever. And he'd want to make sure that she and his son were well taken care of. It wouldn't have mattered to him who she went on with. As long as she learned to live again.

He'd want that from her. And by dragging her heels and questioning what she was feeling, she was in essence, betraying him.

"I'm going to start getting rid of some of Donnie's things," she suddenly announced, breaking the silence that had enveloped the SUV. The moment they'd pulled away from the Messer house half an hour ago, she'd kicked off her sandals and closed her eyes and rested her head against the cold window next to her.

Danny cast a startled glance at her. Taken back by the sound of her voice when he'd thought she was asleep, and by her decision.

"I'm just going to start off slow," she said. "Very slow. I can't bring myself to just get rid of everything all at once. And there's just so much stuff."

"And you'll want to keep some things," Danny added. "You won't want to get rid of everything. You'll find something you'll want to leave behind. For DJ."

Sam nodded in agreement. "I'm thinking that I'll call Don's mom and ask her if she wants to help me. I'm sure she'd like something of his. And maybe it will start repairing things. Between me and her."

"Maybe," Danny said. "As long as you're ready for that kind of thing, Sammie. As long as you know that you're going to be okay doing it."

"I'll be okay," she assured him, then gave a heavy sigh. "It's just time, Danny. I'm trying so hard to move ahead. And by keeping things around…as much as I'll miss opening the closet and seeing his clothes and smelling him…" she choked up slight. "…as much as I'll miss that, it's not doing me any good hanging on to him so badly. He's not coming back and I know that. I'm still here. And you're still here. And by leaving all of his things…I'm just not doing anyone any good."

"Don't be thinking you have to do it for me, Sam. Don't be thinking that it makes me uncomfortable so see things of Flack's around. It was his house. Of course his stuff is going to be there. I'm okay with that. Doesn't bother me."

"It bothers me," she admitted. "I'm just…" she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm just ready. But only to take it one tiny step at a time."

"Baby steps," Danny said, and shot her a smile. "Isn't that what you said the other night? When you kissed me in the upstairs hallway?"

"Excuse me?" she laughed. "I _kissed _you? I think not. You kissed me first."

"Sam…come on…you were so the aggressor."

"What?!" she exclaimed. "You're kidding me right? I did not kiss you. You kissed me. You made the first move. Don't you even dare try and deny it, Daniel. Don't sit there and go all virginal Catholic boy on me. You kissed me and you know it."

"A'right…a'right…so maybe we both leaned into it at the same time," he teased.

"I think not!" she cried and slapped his shoulder playfully. "You busted a move on me and you know it."

He just smiled.

"You better be careful," Sam warned him. "I'm not some meek and mild little thing. I'm not above making you spend a lot of long and cold lonely nights in the spare room."

"I'd never underestimate you, Brooklyn. Not in a million years. I heard enough stories from Flack to completely terrify me."

"He learned right quick to watch himself," she laughed. "He was an apt pupil."

"Yeah? I remember him telling me it was the other way around. That he was the one schooling _you._"

"God!" she put her face in her hands and shook her head. "Was there nothing that man _didn't_ tell you?"

"Not really. Flack liked to talk."

"He did," Sam agreed, then giggled and blushed as many a dirty memory surged through her. "He was definitely a talker," she said. "He was a bad, bad, bad talker, actually."

"A bad talker as in bad, bad or a bad talker as in a bad way that you liked?" Danny asked curiously.

"Definitely the former," she replied. And laughed even harder. "God…I can't believe I am telling you stuff like this…that my dead husband talked dirty to me."

"Never mind that he talked dirty to ya. I'm more intrigued by the fact that you're into that kind of thing. Was it just 'cause Flack was doing it or does it do something for ya when any guy does it?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Don was the first person that was ever like that with me. First time he did it, I was completely shocked. And then the more he did it, the more I realized how much I enjoyed it. I don't know if it was just him or just his voice or…I seriously can't believe I am telling you all of this."

"Hey…after what went down between us this morning, I think it's safe to say that talking about stuff like this is okay. Wouldn't you?"

"Most definitely," she agreed. Then quieted down once more.

"Just so you know, my dad? He's okay with us," Danny told her.

"I'm glad," Sam said. "I was really worried about what they were going to say and think about the whole thing."

"Honestly? I'm more worried about what the people at work are going to say about it," Danny admitted. "Not that I care in the grand scheme of things. 'Cause nothing anyone says or thinks is going to change the way I feel about you. I just…"

"It's nerve wracking," Sam finished. "Because you want them to all be okay with it and you know that some of them won't be."

"Exactly," Danny said. "And I was thinking about how we're going to tell all of them. I mean, I'm thinking that we should be telling your brother before anyone else."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"As for everyone else? The team's getting together at Sullivan's Saturday night. And I was thinking that maybe that could be the perfect opportunity to tell them. They're all together in one place, you and I can just walk in holding hands and BOOM. It's done. We don't even really have to say anything."

"Is that how you want to handle it?" she asked.

"I just want to handle it," Danny replied. "Sooner the better. You?"

"I'd tell them all right now if I could. But a team night out…I think we should consider doing it that way. Kill all those birds with one stone."

"We'll sleep on it," Danny said. "See how we feel about it in the morning."

"Sounds good to me…" Sam gave a loud yawn and closed her eyes once more.

A comfortable silence fell on the couple. Danny's eyes remained riveted on the road as he listened to the soft breathing coming from the seat beside him.

"Sammie?" he asked after several minutes. "You asleep?"

"Just resting my eyes," she replied.

"You asked me if Flack talked a lot about you. Truth was, he talked about you all the time. And it was all good."

She smiled.

"He was always going on about you. About how much he loved you. About how he couldn't wait to have a family with you. Have forever with you."

Sam sniffled lightly. "I miss him, Danny," she whispered.

"So do I," he said. "Every second of every day. Him and Lindsay."

"I just…I can't promise you that there won't ever be a time where I won't miss him," she continued. "Just like I know you can't promise me you there won't ever be a time where you won't miss Lindsay."

"You're right…" he agreed. "But missing them and wishing them back are two totally different things. And honestly? The way I feel about you, Sammie? I don't wish them back. And that might make me sound like an evil, vicious bastard. But it's the truth…the way that I'm feeling about you…the way that I l…" he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The way that I love you is so powerful and intense that I wouldn't want to miss it for anything in this world."

She beamed brightly, and leaning across the front seat, pressed a kiss to his unshaven cheek.

"Neither would I," she said, and cuddling into his side, leaned her head against his shoulder.

And for the first time in just over a year, at that exact moment, their lives seemed impossibly perfect.

And complete.

* * *

**Okay, so I made up some background for Danny, seeing as the show has absolutely no continuity when it comes to these things. First he comes from a mobster type family, then in season 5 he's saying he's from a line of cops when he had the 'blue flu'. So I just took the liberty to, for lack of a better word, make shit up. LOL. Hope it was okay!**

**A huge thanks to all of those who are reading and reviewing! Words cannot express how much I appreciate each and every one of you! Even the lurkers!**

**Please R and R folks!**

**Special thanks to:**

**Hope4sall**

**Mynerva24**

**CSINYMinute**

**HighQueenReicheru**

**muchmadness**

**BlueEyedAuthor**

**Forest Angel**

**Soccer-bitch**

**xSamilciousx**

**Delko's Girl 88**


	19. Chapter 19

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS, STORY LINE, PLOT, ETC.**

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SLIGHT SMUT. VERY SLIGHT COMPARED TO WHAT I'M USUALLY KNOWN FOR. I'M JUST ATTEMPTING TO GUAGE REACTIONS TO IT. IF YOU WANT MORE DETAILED STUFF, LET ME KNOW. IF YOU DON'T AND YOU LIKE WHAT WAS IN HERE, LET ME KNOW THAT TOO! THANKS!**

* * *

**In your arms**

"Oh  
Maybe tonight  
We could close the door and lock ourselves inside  
Take time to feel  
I don't want to miss the chance to be so real  
The days all fly away, and I forget the truth  
Everything that matters is in this room

When you lie next to me  
Breathin' the air I breathe  
We don't have to speak  
And just be (whoa)  
Our love's a precious thing  
Don't wanna waste a day  
Or one more minute  
Without you in it  
Life is so sweet  
When you lie next to me  
(When you lie next to me)

My heart is yours  
And every part of me still wants to give you more  
More time to love  
'Cause you never know when life will leave us  
I want to take in all the beauty here, oh  
Let the world around us just disappear."  
-When You Lie Next To Me, Kellie Coffey

* * *

His hands behind his head as he lay stretched out in the middle of the Queen sized bed in the Flacks spare bedroom, Danny closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Filling his lungs with the crisp air that spilled in through the open window and fluttered the curtains. Two hours ago, just as he and Sam were pulling into the driveway, the night sky had opened up and unleashed a torrential downpour on the city. They'd gotten soaked just dashing from the SUV to the front door, seeking shelter on the front porch and laughing as they shook water from their hair and Sam reached up to clear the droplets off of his glasses with her fingertips. He'd teased her about her dress being slightly see through. And how it was giving him the perfect sneaky peek at the sexy little light pink lace number she was sporting underneath.

"It's a nursing bra," she'd informed him with a roll of her eyes, then turned to unlock the door, presenting him with her back. "Trust me. They're anything but sexy."

"I don't know about that," he'd whispered, and with the baby seat in one hand, had stepped closer to her and curled his free arm around her waist. After pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot just below her right ear and feeling her shiver against him, he'd grinned and settled his chin on her shoulder. "And honestly, Sammie…" he'd said, as he slid his hand across her stomach and onto her hip and down her thigh. "It's what's underneath that's so sexy."

He chuckled even now as he recalled how her entire body had shuddered and she'd dropped the keys to the porch with a loud clatter. It had felt so damn good to know that he had that kind of effect over her. That the simple touch of his hand and the sound of his voice and the feel of his warmth breath on her neck could do something for her. After Lindsay had died and he'd crashed and burned with a couple of one night stands he'd foolishly tricked himself into thinking had the possibility of being something more, he'd seriously begun to doubt himself with women. With Lindsay, everything had seemed so…easy. He was used to her and she to him and he didn't have to work so goddamn hard to impress her or turn her on anymore. He knew exactly what buttons to push to get a 'rise' out of not only her, but himself as well. She was familiar. In a damn good, comforting and uncomplicated way, and the thought of having to work so hard at 'getting' to a woman was a major downer. He simply wasn't ready to move on and didn't have the time, or the patience, to worry about his game.

So to do something so simple and to realize that it had turned Sam on…it had been a huge boost. Even if a small part of him had worried -and still did worry- that she'd only reacted that way because they were a new thing. Because she hadn't been with a man for over a year until that very morning. That it wasn't him doing something for her, but her emotions and her hormones running rampant.

_You gotta stop being so damn pessimistic about this, _Danny thought, as the breeze coming in from the window caused him to shiver slightly as he lay on top of the covers in a pair of boxers and a wife beater. _You two already dropped the L word on each other. Both of you mean it. Both of you are happy and enjoying yourselves and it's the real deal. So stop thinking the worst about things and just chill out and allow shit to happen naturally. Don't analyze it so goddamn much._

He put on a good front. Despite being the proverbial rock for Sam in regards to their relationship, just underneath the surface were his nagging doubts and insecurities. He trusted his heart when it told him that this was the real deal, something more intense and powerful then he'd ever expected to feel again once he'd lost Lindsay. And he honestly didn't care what people thought about them and all the negative reactions and harsh words in the world weren't going to change how he felt about her, or his decision to be with her. Where his paranoia lay, was in how she actually felt about him. Although Sam had been the one to say the L word first, Danny was concerned that she was convincing herself she felt that way simply because she was lonely and scared that she'd never feel loved and cherished again. That whether that guy was him or a complete stranger, she'd still 'feel' those things because she was so desperately reaching for some sort of life line to keep her afloat. And with her current emotional state and frayed nerves, he fretted that any unpleasant reaction from her family and friends towards them as a couple, would cause her to pull away from him.

You're just being an irrational, whiny bitch, Danny scolded himself. Then smirked when he realized that those exact words had been spoken by Flack himself on a number of occasions at Sullivan's when Danny bitched and moaned to him about issues he was having with Lindsay. Flack would listen quietly, sipping his beer and remaining completely emotionless as Danny beat himself up over lost chances and fuck ups. And then, when Danny would finally stop to take a breath, Flack would reach into the bowl of peanuts sitting on top of the bar, grab a hold of one and crack open the shell, and toss the nut square at Danny's face.

"Quit acting like such a fucking girl," the detective would growl. "Grow some fucking balls and just go to her and admit you're a jack ass. Then beg for a second chance. Don't sit here and whine to me like a little bitch when you could be making it up to her."

Don Flack Junior. Master of brutal honesty.

Danny sighed heavily and closed his eyes, his mind working on overdrive. _Stop being so goddamn self conscious about this. Better yet, why don't you quit puttin' on such a big show and pretending you're some macho tough guy and admit all of this to her. See what her reaction is and then take things from there._

* * *

A soft tap came to the bedroom door. He'd left it propped open slightly, using a Dean Koontz book he'd found while snooping through the night stand as a door stopper. He'd laid the paperback on it's side between the door and the frame, hoping that when -and if - Sam journeyed out of the master bedroom following her shower, she'd take the open door as an invitation.

It was a strange, almost awkward situation. While they'd already had sex, they hadn't actually sat down and talked about where they went from there, intimacy wise. Although Danny was more than ready, willing and able to share a bed with her every nigh for whatever length of time God permitted them But that was a decision he was leaving entirely up to Sam. He wasn't going to pressure her into anything. If she needed more time to get used to the intensity of their relationship, then time he would grant her.

Danny cracked open his eyes and looked towards the bedroom door as Sam pushed the door open just far enough to poke her head into the room.

"What'cha up to?" she asked curiously.

Danny removed one of his hands from behind his head and picked up the red file folder that lay closed on his stomach. "Procrastinating," he told her. "And waiting for you," he quickly added, shooting her a wink.

She smiled, and pushing the door open, used her toes to shove the book aside. He noticed how simple and stunningly beautiful she was in a sunny yellow cotton pyjama set. The wide legged pants swished around her legs as she walked and a the camisole top boasted an elegant eyelet pattern. Her hair flowed down her back and shimmered in the light cast by the beside lamp, and her arms were crossed over her chest as she tightly cradled a number of objects close to her chest.

"I'm glad you found some use for that," she said, nodding down at the book as she walked into the room, allowing the door to shut softly behind her. "I used to be a huge fan of Dean Koontz and Adam bought me that one and I think I got two chapters into it before I was bored stiff."

"Are you sure?" Danny asked, his eyes sparkling playfully. "Or is that you got scared of something you read in it and it freaked you out so bad you couldn't sleep at night and seeing as you didn't have anyone around to check under the bed and in the closet anymore, you were worried that the bogeyman would get you?"

"It was never the Bogeyman, okay? It wasn't the Bogeyman I was making Donnie check for every time I made him take a flashlight and check on every little thing that went bump in the night. It was Jason."

Danny arched a quizzical eyebrow.

"Jason Voorhees," Sam clarified, as she crossed the room and deposited the items cradled in her arms on the nightstand. Her Ipod, a barbecue lighter and two pale pink candles inside of small mason jars. "You know…" she continued, as she parked herself on the edge of the bed and began arranging her stash of things in a neat fashion. "From the Friday the Thirteenth movies?"

"Do not tell me that you were actually scared of those movies," Danny smirked, as he reached out to trail his fingertips along her back. Skimming the soft skin just above the back of her pyjama top.

"Scared shitless," she admitted, and used the lighter to ignite the candles. "It started when I was ten and the babysitter my mom hired made me and Adam watch the first one. I was terrified. Scarred for life in fact. Ever since I've been scared of going into the bathroom alone if the shower curtain is closed. 'Cause there was a part where he hid behind the shower curtain and I…" she glanced over her shoulder and frowned as she noticed Danny biting down on his lip to keep from laughing. "It's not funny!" she cried. "That goddamn movie traumatized me! And then a few years back, it was on one night and I…after that I made Don promise to never leave the shower curtain closed. And I put a flashlight between our pillows and would shake him awake in the middle of the night if I heard a noise. And he'd curse and carry on but you know what? He did it. He got out of bed and humoured me."

"Probably 'cause if he didn't he'd kill you," Danny concluded. "Guess he figured to prevent himself from strangling you, it was better to get out of bed and go on a little ghost busting mission."

"Make fun of me all you want," Sam pouted. "I am still terrified of Jason. I can't even look at hockey masks like the one he wears. And if anyone dares come here on Halloween dressed like him…I swear to God I'll either run away screaming or butcher him."

"Poor baby," Danny chided as he rolled over onto his side and pushed his body closer to hers. Curling an arm around her waist, he lifted the back of pyjama top with his free hand and pressed a tender kiss to the to her spine. "Don't worry, Sammie…" he said, as the tip of her index finger traced the outline of the hip to hip tattoo of lotus flowers that decorated the small of her back. "I'll be your designated monster chaser and demon slayer from now on."

She smiled as she reached out and flicked off the bedside lamp. "Like you have a choice otherwise," she said, as she turned sideways and motioned for him to back up and give her some room.

He scooted backwards across the bed , giving her ample space to lie down beside him. She settled herself on her right hand side and cuddled in close to him, tucking her body in tight against his and resting her hand on his chest and her head on his shoulder. His arm curled tightly around her, his fingertips gently grazing back and forth along her satiny skin. The scent of her vanilla honey shampoo permeated his senses and he relaxed as their bodies moulded together and their hearts beat in unison.

It was a tender and romantic moment. Listening to the rain hammering down and breathing in the fresh air as their warm limbs rested against each other and the candles flickered, casting shadows along the wall next to the bed.

"Tired, baby?" he asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

Sam shook her head and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. "Are you?" she inquired.

"Relaxed," he told her. "Utterly and completely. But tired? No."

"What were you working on?" she reached for the folder that had tumbled to the bed, and placing it on his stomach, opened it up and then propped herself up on her elbow to survey the contents.

"Studying, actually," Danny told her. "Lab's being re-accredited next week. Remember Quinn Shelby? One who did it last time during that whole Jaws thing?"

Sam nodded.

"She's coming back. Only this time we're actually being given a quiz concerning how well we know our craft. Apparently it's something new since the state began cracking down on all the police departments under their watch. I figured every couple of days, I'd bring something new home to look at. Hawkes went and made study sheets for everyone."

"Very detailed study sheets by the looks of it," Sam commented, as she flipped through the stack of papers.

"Well you know the good doctor. He never does things half way. I'm actually kind of worried he's going to show the rest of us up."

"Isn't that kind of inevitable though?" she asked. "I mean considering he is smarter than the whole lot of us and then some. He graduated college at eighteen for crying out loud. He was a board certified surgeon by twenty-six. No one can compete with a brain pan that size."

"We can compete in other categories," Danny told her. "He may have a massive brain pan compared to me, but I bet you I got something else that would totally demolish him. Hope it doesn't come to that. Us having to drop our pants to find out whose the bigger man. 'Cause if it comes to that, I'm afraid I'll have to humiliate him."

Sam laughed. "Apparently you've never heard the old adage about black men and the size of their Johnsons."

"Oh I've heard it. You ever hear about the one about Italian guys? They don't call us Italian Stallions for nothing, ya know."

"I think the term Italian Stallion is more in reference to stamina, baby. Not size. Not that I have any complaints in either of those categories. 'Cause from what I've seen and felt I know that…" blushing furiously, she fanned herself with her hand. "Is it hot in here or is it me?" she asked.

"It's you," he chuckled. "You're blushing on me, here. Like some giddy little virginal high school girl."

"It's the pure memory of this morning and the whole visualization I got when you talked about you and Hawkes dropping your drawers and…you know what? Never mind. How did we get onto talking about your equipment when we were discussing work. When we should be concentrating on…" she peered at the sheet and made a gagging noise. "Analysis of blood spatters."

"See why I'm so easily distracted?" Danny asked. "This shit is boring. And how can any mortal man concentrate on low, medium and high velocity blood spatters when you're lying next to them half naked and talking about their sexual prowess and the size of their cannoli."

Sam roared with laughter and buried her face in the papers. "Please tell me you did not just compare your equipment to an Italian delicacy!"

"I did…" Danny laughed as well, and reaching across his body, peeled the papers away from her face. "And admit it, it did something for you."

"I will admit no such thing!" she cried. "How can you compare the two? A cannoli is a pastry tube filled with sweet, creamy filling and…"

"The latter part is exactly why it's the perfect analogy," he reasoned. "What else do you know that's filled with something sweet and creamy?" he asked, pecking her lips gently and then wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Something that's made just for you."

"You're a pervert!" she exclaimed, and playfully shoved him onto his back. "You couldn't bring the ballistics stuff home?" she inquired, closing the folder and holding it aloft. "That is, after all, my specialty."

"Hawkes hasn't got that far yet. But trust me, second I get them, I'm running out and buying you these black framed glasses and a yard stick and a crisp white blouse, grey cardigan and a long black skirt."

Sam frowned, perplexed.

"You know…" he reached up and ran a fingertip along the edge of one of the cami straps. "So you can go all stern, school teacher on me."

"You have either watched way too many pornos or fantasized one too many times about some teacher of yours when you were in that all boys school. I bet it just drove you so nuts being around all those guys that one certain teacher caught your eye," she bit her bottom lip as she ran the corner of the folder all the way from his belly button to his Adam's apple. "Am I right?"

"Miss Joyce," Danny told her. "She was my English teacher from grade nine to eleven. She was young, blond and so incredibly hot. She used to wear her hair all pushed back in this tight bun and skirts that went to her calf and these white blouses and big bulky cardigans and the glasses. And she used to walk up and down the aisle between our seats, tapping this yard stick against her leg. And I used to have this crazy ass dreams about her bending me over her desk and punishing me with that damn yard stick."

"You were a naughty, naughty boy, Daniel Messer," Sam declared, and using the folder to lift his chin, leaned over him and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "But I just can't get into the whole role playing thing. At least not the part of a strict school teacher."

"What part would you play then?" he inquired curiously.

"Hmmm…I don't know…" she said, as she tossed the folder onto the floor and proceeded to climb on top of him, a leg on either side of his torso as she settled herself on his stomach. Her golden eyes glittered in the light cast by the candles as her hands, starting at the waist of his boxers, moved slowly and tantalizingly up the front of his wife beater. "…but something tells me I'm more cut out for the little tartan mini skirt and the knee high socks. My hair in pig tails and my shirt tied just underneath my boobs. I think I'm definitely more the naughty Catholic school girl type. What do you think?"

"I think you just uncovered my Britney fantasy baby," Danny's hands settled on her thighs as his sexy grin broadened as he imagined her in that outfit. "Hit me baby, one more time!"

"You're comparing me to Britney and Don used to comment on my J. Lo ass all the time. You two watch a lot of MTV together or something? Sit in the break room discussing all the hot women that came on?"

"Not discussing really," he said. "More checking them out and then comparing them to the hot women that were already in our lives. You know, finding all the faults in them and pointing out every perfect, sexy inch of you and Linds."

Sam grinned and leaned over him, her hands firmly planted on the pillow, her hair tumbling over them and brushing against his face and shoulders. "That is a very damn good answer," she declared. "Complete and utter bullshit, but a damn good answer nonetheless."

"Not all bullshit…" he assured her, quickly and effortlessly turned on by the close proximity of her warm and welcoming body and her intoxicating scent. In the way the neckline of her pyjamas drooped forward as she leaned over him, giving him a clear view of the treats that lay underneath that thin layer of cotton. His fingers dug into her hips, then relaxed as he slid his hands around to her back and lower, cupping her bottom and softly kneading the flesh through her pyjamas. "'Cause from what I've seen and felt, trust me, J. Lo's ass may be insured for some crazy amount of money, but it's got nothing on yours."

She smiled, then boldly captured his lips with hers in a long, intense and passionate kiss. She didn't know what had gotten into her. If it was the year she'd spent without feeling a man's hands exploring her body or the way their muscles moved under her fingers or that musky smell of sweat as they moved inside of her, driving her insane with each stroke and murmured word and noise of pleasure. Or if the wine that she had consumed at dinner had gone to her head. But she was suddenly, and uncharacteristically, filled with a sexual confidence that she'd never experienced before. In the past, even with her husband, she'd always been content to let him make the first move. To let him, let her know when he wanted it -which had seemed like all the time, something she hadn't minded one bit- and how he wanted it, completely taking the reigns and exercising unwavering control from start to finish. And now…now she relished the power, and affect, that she commanded over someone.

* * *

"Samantha…" her name was a breathless groan tumbling from Danny's lips as she broke out of the kiss and ground her pelvis against his before sliding slowly and sinuously down his body until she was perched upon his thighs.

"Danny…" she returned, as her fingers tightened around the hem of his wife beater and pushed it up, revealing his well muscled abdomen.

"You don't have to do this…" he told her, his chest heaving as red hot arousal coursed through him. "I don't expect this…"

"I know," she said, and hooking an index finger under the waist band of his boxers, pulled them down ever so slightly. "And everything I'm doing, I'm doing because I want to. Okay?"

"Okay," he croaked out, biting down on his lip, his hands clutching the comforter underneath him, his back arching off the bed as her moist tongue made contact with his skin. The tip travelling across his stomach. From just above his right hip and all the way to his left. A painfully slow yet incredibly erotic journey that left him gasping and desperately needing so much more once it ended.

"Did you like that?" he heard Sam ask, her words barely audible through the thundering rush of blood that threatened to explode his head.

"I liked that," Danny mumbled, then opened his eyes and observed her under heavy lids as her lips and tongue drifted up his left side, tracing the underside of his bottom rib before skimming across his body and repeating the actions on his right.

Perspiration beaded on his forehead and trickled down the back of his neck as he submitted to the pleasure she was inflicting on him. Transfixed at the sight of her tongue sweeping around his navel, thoroughly coating the area with a glistening layer of saliva. His entire body stiffened as the tip of her tongue slipped into the intent of his belly button, and he released a guttural moan and his eyes flickered closed as she drew back and blew a gust of air on the slick area of his stomach.

"Jesus…Christ…" he muttered. Blindly reaching out, he tangled his fingers in her hair as her hands shoved his wife beater up even farther. His stomach and chest serving as a quivering, heaving canvas for her greedy lips and tongue. His free hand drifted up the back of her camisole and he drew in a harsh breath as one of her fingernails flicked across his nipple. "Get up here," he demanded, and tightening the grip on her hair, pulled her into an aggressive, hungry kiss.

Tongues duelled for control as his hand slid down her back and then up the front of her tank, palming one of her achingly erect nipples.

"No Danny…" Sam protested the contact, turning her face away abruptly. "You can't…you can't do that…I'm nursing and if you do that I'll…"

"Relax baby," he whispered, and releasing the grip on her hair, gently cupped the side of her face. Reassuring blue eyes locking on nervous golden brown. "It's all good…doesn't bother me…"

"I just…"

"It doesn't bother me," he repeated, and wrapping a strong arm around her waist, manoeuvred himself into a sitting position. "Just relax, Sammie," he said, as she settled herself in his lap and he pushed her top up around her neck and he bent his head to tend to her.

"Danny…" his name was a long, drawn out sigh as it escaped her lips. Her fingers burrowed in his hair, the nails scraping against his scalp as she writhed in his lap. Her head spun and her heart hammered as she drew closer and closer to release solely by the attention he was lavishing on her breasts.

It felt so good and so perfect and so…overwhelming. Her body shuddered as his hands slid over her sides and around to her back, his fingertips grazing the entire length of her spine. Her head fell back as his lips journeyed up to her slender neck, suckling and nipping before settling near her ear.

"I want you so bad baby," he whispered. "I need you so bad."

Sam drew away from him and swiftly pulled her camisole up and over her head before scrambling off of his lap and hurriedly yanking her pyjama bottoms over her lips and down her legs. Her hair wild and tousled, her cheeks flushed and her skin shimmering in the candlelight.

Danny quickly removed his wife beater and divested himself of his boxers and tossed his clothes into the pile by the side of the bed. His dog tags dangled noisily from his neck and skimmed across her skin as he his hands and his lips trailed a blazing bath of kisses and caressing from the top of her feet to her slender shoulders, his body covering hers as he gently pushed her down onto her back.

Curling her arms around his neck, Sam pulled him down into a sizzling kiss. Revelling in the feel of the hair on his chest brushing against her heaving breasts and the way the muscles in his shoulders and back moved under her fingers. His skin was smooth and warm and his mouth and tongue greedy and desperate, and she let out a whimper as they found the side of her neck.

"Please…" she begged, her nails scraping across his shoulders, her body tensing as one of his hands slipped between her legs. "No more teasing…" she said breathlessly. "I can't…I can't take it…"

He nodded in agreement and quickly pulled away from him. Sitting back on his heels, he leaned across the bed, and yanking open the top drawer on the nightstand, grabbed a condom from the opened box sitting inside.

"Where'd you get those?" Sam asked curiously. "I thought you said this morning you only had that one on you."

"I did only have that one on me," Danny replied. "I bought an entire box on my way here after work."

"A normal size box or one of those bulk ones that come with something a little extra?"

He grinned, and palming the condom package, settled himself between her thighs once again and kissed her deeply. "Let's just say we're currently in possession of a really funky looking glow in the dark, vibrating cock ring," he told her.

"Kinky…" she said, and gave a laugh that he silenced with deep and intense kiss. "For other people maybe," she added, as his lips once again feasted on her neck. "I've been lucky enough that I've been with two guys that didn't need any extra help."

"Does that mean I have to prove my worth to be the third?" he asked curiously, his tongue trailing along her collarbone.

"You are the second person you tool," she giggled, then gasped as his teeth nipped at her shoulder. "Unless, you know…you're into that kind of thing."

"I don't need to resort to that kind of thing," Danny told her. "I know what I'm doing."

"Oh yes you do," she agreed, her back arching off the bed and her eyes closing as he once again returned his mouth to her breast.

He suddenly pulled back, his chest heavy and his eyes blazing with desire as he looked down at her. "Don't worry Sammie," he said, and pressed a kiss to her fluttering stomach. "I'll take care of you," he vowed.

She smiled, and grabbing a hold of the back of his neck, pulled him into a kiss.

She had no doubt in her mind he intended to make good on his promise.

* * *

"Still raining outside," Danny commented, an hour later as he and Sam lay in a blissful afterglow. Their naked bodies still slick with sweat and their hair still mussed.

In the aftermath of love making, they'd laid sprawled on the bed, gasping and panting, struggling to draw air into their lungs and their entire bodies quivering from the intensity of their activities. After several long minutes, he'd climbed out of bed and headed for the washroom to clean himself up and dispose of the condom. When he got back, Sam had extinguished the candles and had climbed back into her pyjamas. He'd pulled his boxers back on and slipped into bed beside her, gathering her into his arms. She'd cuddled into him. Lying on her right side with her arm draped over his chest and her face buried in the side of his neck.

It was the position they still found themselves in. Wide awake and listening to the rain patter down.

"It's suppose to rain until well into the afternoon tomorrow," Sam said, then burst into giggles.

"What's so funny?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, his fingertips gliding along her shoulder.

"We really need to work on our pillow talk," she replied, and ran her hand softly over his chest.

"Seemed like as good of a conversation as any," Danny said, which only made her laugh harder. "What?" he chuckled. "I've never had any complaints about my after sex conversation topics before."

"That's because I know full well that you're not exactly the chatty type after sex," Sam told him. "You and Donnie weren't the only ones that talked shop, you know. Linds and I had our fair share of indecent conversations in our times. And she told me that her sole complaint was that you weren't a talker afterwards. That you weren't much of anything afterwards, actually. That you were more prone to just roll over and fall asleep."

"Hey…sex takes a lot out of a guy, okay? Especially when women are so damn demanding. They want it when they want it. And when she wanted it always seemed to be after I just got home from a double or a triple and I was dead tired."

"Maybe she just wanted to put your whole Italian Stallion theory to the test," Sam teased.

Danny frowned. "Okay smart ass."

"She also told me that you weren't much of a cuddler," Sam said. "So I don't know what's changed since then and now, but you're doing a pretty good job at the cuddling."

"Only 'cause I know you like that sort of thing. Flack told me you were the cuddly type after doing the deed."

"This is so bizarre," Sam laughed into the side of his neck. "First our pillow talk involves the weather, now it involves our deceased former partners. We are all sorts of sick and twisted."

"You know what else he told me?"

"God," she groaned loudly. "I'm almost scared to ask."

"He told me that you were the chatty type. Incessantly chatty, were his exact words. He told me how you'd just talk and talk for hours and just when you got quiet and he'd be drifting off to sleep, you'd start yapping again. So I went into this completely prepared for these after sex moments with you."

"I guess it's better than me critiquing your performance for an hour afterwards," Sam reasoned.

Danny laughed. "I can't believe Devon actually did that. Poor Flack."

"Oh he had nothing to worry about. I think she was just seriously delusional or something. Because that man was not lacking in the skills department. She wouldn't know great sex if it jumped up and bit her in the ass."

"Yeah…he told me you were into that sort of thing too," Danny teased.

Sam frowned and nipped at his earlobe, laughing as his body jerked and he let out a profanity.

"I'm just joking with you baby," he said, and kissed the top of her head.

Sam gave a long, content sigh and burrowed her face in his neck once again. Listening to the rain outside of the window and his heart beating inside of his body. Relaxed by the sensation of his fingertips stroking the back of her neck.

"I have to go to the department shrink on Friday," she announced, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

"What time?" Danny asked.

"Two o'clock. Don's mom is going to come over and baby sit DJ. She nearly fainted when I called her this morning and asked. I'm trying, Danny. I really am. I'm trying to make things right with her."

"I know, Sammie…it's going to take some time, babe. It's not going to happen over night. The important thing is that you made the first step. Just let things fall into place, okay? Don't rush anything and don't expect to much. A'right?"

She nodded.

"You want me to meet you afterwards?" he asked. "Or even come with you? A little moral support?"

"I think it's best I go alone. I need to get some of my indepedance back. I had feeling like I'm using you as my crutch."

"I'm your boyfriend, Sammie. It's what I'm here for. Support you through things."

"I know. And I appreciate it, Danny. You know that. But I…" she propped herself on her elbow and looked down at him. "I think it's something I need to do on my own."

"Fair enough," he said, and kissed her chastely.

"I wouldn't mind you were waiting for me when I got out though," she told him, her fingers curling around his chain. "You could take me for a latte?"

"I could," he said, and reached up to brush her hair away from her face. "I'm tired baby," he told her, and pecked her forehead.

"Me too," she said with a yawn, and turning briefly over onto her side, grabbed her Ipod from the nightstand. Tucking one bud into her left ear, she leaned over him and tucked the second into Danny's right. Pressing play, she settled her head back into the crook of his neck. "In case you haven't noticed, music helps me sleep."

"I noticed. But I already knew about it. Flack told me about that, too."

"Naturally," she laughed. "He wasn't as willing to indulge me as you are."

"I'll try anything once," he said, and wrapped his arm around her once again. "Just as long as I don't have to listen to any Britney or Backstreet Boys or none of that crap."

"All good stuff…"she assured him. Then sighed happily as Edwin McCain's 'I'll Be' began to play.

"I love this song," she and Danny said in unison.

She giggled and kissed the side of his neck as he smiled and tightened his hold on her. They lay quietly in each other's embrace, listening to the song and finding new found meaning in the heartfelt, beautiful words. A shiver passing through her body when he began to sing along in her ear.

_"And rain falls angry on the tin roof, as we lie awake in my bed. And you're my survival, you're my living proof, my love is alive and not dead. And tell me that we belong together, dress it up with the trappings of love. I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips, instead of the gallows of heartache, that hang from above. I'll be your crying shoulder. I'll be love's suicide and I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your life." _

As the song came to a gradual close and a raucous number by Pink followed it, Sam pressed pause on the Ipod and drew back to look at her boyfriend. Tears sparkling in her eyes and her heart threatening to overflow with the intense feelings she possessed for him. A man that had always meant so much to her, but who had never captivated her so completely until just recently.

"Thank you," she managed through the emotion attempting to choke her.

"Every word, baby," Danny whispered, as he laid a hand on the side of her face, his eyes searching hers. "I meant every word."

She sniffled noisily and covered his lips with hers in a tender, lingering kiss.

As she settled down into his arms once again, she wondered how, after a year of immense sorrow and suffering, she was able to love so wholly and completely once again. And she hoped, with every ounce of her soul, that all of this wasn't simply too good to be true.

* * *

**A huge thanks to all of you that are reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all the lurkers and those adding me to favs and alerts! Words can't express how much the support means to me!**

**Please R and R folks!**

**Special thanks to:**

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**BlueEyedAuthor**

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**Forest Angel**


	20. Chapter 20

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN SAMANTHA FLACK, BABY DJ, PLOT, STORY LINE ETC.**

**HUGE THANKS GOING OUT TO AJ, CASS AND HEIDI FOR LETTING ME RUN STUFF BY THEM!**

**AND TO THOSE WHO LOVE THE MUSIC I CHOOSE FOR MY CHAPTERS, I DEFINITELY RECOMMEND THE ONE I'VE USED THIS TIME AROUND. IT'S ABSOLUTELY AMAZING**

* * *

**One step forward**

"Oh we stood outside together,  
and we laughed like ancient friends.  
Then we laid down in a field,  
just where the road begins and ends.  
Well I see you in the mirror,  
and I watch you from a far.  
My friends all think I'm crazy,  
but I know the way things are.  
Outside I hear voices underneath the moon,  
but I'm grateful for whatever,  
breaks the silence of this room.  
Oh time won't let me go,  
and every night I know

That you could pull me through.  
You could always pull me through.  
Even when I'm lying here,  
drowning in my blues.  
You take the sting out of the rain,  
and bring the sun back up again,  
darling you could always pull me through.  
I hope you're traveling well now,  
and there's stars over your head.  
And I hope the river carries you,  
everywhere you said.  
Well I miss the way you look at me.  
The way you wear your hair.  
And I miss the conversations we left hanging in the air.  
Oh late at night I wake up,  
wonder what's been done,  
but I know our life together will go on, and on."  
-Pull Me Through, Jim Cuddy

* * *

_And this is exactly why I never drive into mid-town, _Sam thought, as she issued a heavy sigh and closing her eyes briefly, banged the back of her head off of her seat rest in irritation. The traffic leaving Flushing and on the Queensboro Bridge had been surprisingly decent, despite the seemingly on going road work that plagued Queens as soon as the ground thawed and continued until the first snow fall. Despite having her driver's licence and constant access to a car, the moment she'd moved back to New York City nearly five years before, she'd hung up her keys in favour or buying a Metro Pass every month. She had a notoriously short fuse and virtually no patience, and just could not tolerate being stuck in the horrific traffic that was a staple of the city. She couldn't bear the thought of being stuck in a sea of bumper to bumper vehicles and having to listen to horns honking and drivers screaming obscenities and threats at each other. And the one way streets…

No. It was far safer for a mental case like herself to stick to public transportation. Or get someone to drive her around constantly. Don had joked every time he got behind the wheel when they were going somewhere that he was her personal chauffeur. Even when they were at work and on the road during the course of an investigation or travelling to talk to a witness or to serve a warrant, she always made him drive. Whining and moaning about the state of New York City traffic and all the crazy drivers until he conceded and she got her own way.

_It's better for the other drivers anyway, _he'd say. _That way they don't have to worry about some insane Brooklyn girl screaming curse words at them and flipping 'em the finger._

Those words, spoken in that deep Queens accent rang in her ears as if he was right there in the car with her. And she gave a small laugh and opened her eyes and then scolded herself when she actually cast a glance at the empty passenger's seat and then through the rear view mirror. Despite a year having passed since Don's death, there were times that she actually still found herself holding her breath each time the phone rang or she heard a car in the driveway. Or she stepped out of the shower and heard a man's voice on the television that she'd forgotten she'd left on. Or when, while lying awake in bed with the moonlight streaming through the window and tears coursing down her cheeks, her frazzled mind believed it actually say a shadow pass along the wall or lurking in the corner.

She, although to embarrassed to admit it to anyone but herself, longed to go to a psychic medium. She taped episodes of John Edwards' Crossing Over and Sylvia Brown's appearances on the Montel Williams show and watched them over and over again. She had stopped herself numerous times from sending a letter to either show and begging to receive a personal audience with either medium. She desperately needed answers. She needed to get in touch with her husband and didn't care how much it cost to do it or no matter how crazy she looked to other people for doing it. She wanted to know that he was okay. That he hadn't suffered and he hadn't been afraid and that he was okay where he was now. That he was watching over her. That he'd seen his son and that he was taking good care of their baby. Even if he couldn't do it physically.

_You're a fucking nutcase. You admit that shit to anyone and they're committing you, not letting you back to work, _Sam thought, and reached for the bottle of Blackberry grape vitamin water sitting in the cup holder between the front seats of her leased 2008 metallic silver Dodge Avenger.

She'd been sold on the leasing option because she liked the idea of being able to trade the current car in for a newer, better model every three years. The moment she'd stepped into the show room, her soon to be husband in tow, she'd been like a little kid on Christmas morning surrounded by a sea of toys. Squealing with each car she took a peek at, squeezing her fiance's arm excitedly and nearly jumping up and down as she insisted that the Avenger was the one she wanted. That she had to have it.

Don knew just about everything there was to know about cars and motorcycles, including how to fix them from top to bottom. He had an unwavering passion for them and an immense hidden talent for automotive repair that could be traced all the way back to his seventh birthday when Stanton Gerrard, a long time friend and partner of his father's, had given Don Junior two model car kits for his birthday. One a 1968 Mustang Shelby GT, and the other a 1970 Dodge Charger. It had taken him weeks to put the cars together, and he'd kept them for years. When Sam had first met him those models had been sitting up front and center on book shelf in his living room. While the objects surrounding them had been coated in a distinct layer of dust, those model cars were in pristine condition. Next to his hockey equipment and a Rangers cap autographed by famed ex-goalie Mike Richter, those cars had been his most prized possession by the looks of things, and when she'd asked about them, she'd seen the gentle smile that had curved his lips and the veil of fond recollection that had come over his face as he'd told her the story behind those models. And about his love for cars and motorcycles.

Those models had accompanied them to their new apartment in lower Manhattan and finally to their house in Queens. And still sat on top of the entertainment unit in the basement, along with a startling amount of wrinkled and dog eared copies of mechanic orientated magazines and do it yourself manuals. Just more things of her husband's that was causing a whole lot of clutter, but that she hadn't had the heart to pack away and part with. Things that were part of him and kept his memory alive and well inside of the house. He loved anything to do with mechanics and read anything to do with cars and motorcycles that he could get his hands on. He had even excelled in shop class all through high school and had planned to, if he didn't get accepted into the academy or if he did and crapped out, become a mechanic.

He had of course, made it into, and through, the academy and had become an amazing cop. But the ongoing joke between them had been how they would have met under completely different circumstances if he'd ended up working in a garage of owning his own. How she would have brought her car in one day for repairs and would have been instantly attracted to him. Grease smeared overalls, dirty face and hands and all. Because it was after all, he'd reasoned. His stunning smile and amazing blue eyes that had caused her to fall head over heels in love with him.

Sam smiled now as she thought of the light hearted, affectionate teasing and quick witted banter that had always existed between them. And she thought of the way he had shared -albeit in his remarkably low key way - her excitement for her new car. And how he'd completely taken charge with the salesman to make sure she got _exactly_ what she wanted. She allowed herself, as she sat in the sea of immobile traffic, to think about the drives down to Atlantic City they'd taken every chance they go. With the stereo blasting and the moon roof open, the wind whipping their hair and flushing their cheeks.

She recalled a weekend, shortly before they'd gotten married, that Don had rented a Ducati motorcycle -a 'crotch rocket, the Fast and the Furious lover inside of her had called it- and they'd taken a trip upstate and stayed in a quaint, romantic bed and breakfast. Totally not her husband's style with the antique four poster canopy bed -'Like sleeping in a tent', he'd commented - and the overly pink room decorated in a Victorian theme, complete with scented candles throughout and rose petals sprinkled on the floor and on top of the bed. But he'd done it for her. For a weekend away before the insanity of their wedding, and he'd booked them into a place that he knew that the prissy, princess side of her would like. He had swallowed his pride and kept his mouth shut when it came to the overly feminine room and the scented bath products, but had been slightly disappointed when he realized there was no entertainment in their room.

* * *

"What am I suppose to do with no tv?" Flack asked, as he paced the spacious room. "Stuck out in the middle of nowhere. No tv, no internet access, no Xbox, no nothing. And we're the only guests here! You know why, Sammie?"

She shook her head from where she sat perched on the edge of the vanity in the bathroom, too busy popping open the caps on every lotion and cream in the bathroom and breathing in the various floral scents to answer verbally.

"'Cause it's the middle of baseball playoffs and the Mets are two away from the last wild card spot," he reasoned. "'Cause every man is currently at home, watching the game on television. That's why."

"Well think of it this way, those men have nothing better to do than watch baseball," Sam shot back. "Here you are, stuck in a bed and breakfast in the middle of nowhere with your insanely hot and fantastically sexy fiancee. Who has the better lot in life? The guy sitting on his coach belching the national anthem, scratching his crotch and sniffing his pits? Or you who gets to have crazy sex for three days straight?"

"What?" he appeared in the doorway, a hand on either side of the frame and a slightly perplexed look on his face. "You actually think we're having sex? Here? You don't actually think that do you? We can't have sex here."

"Why not?" she asked. Abandoning the toiletries and hopping down from the counter, she crossed the bathroom and stood before him, her hands settling on his sides. "You honestly can't tell me we're away for a weekend together and we're not going to have sex. 'Cause if that' the case, we could have stayed home and turned off all the phones and not had sex in our own apartment."

"It's not that I don't want to," Flack replied. "'Cause trust me, I always want to. When do I not want to have sex with you? It's like my favourite past time. I just…I guess I didn't realize that this place would be like this. Like…."

She arched her eyebrows and stared up at him, waiting for him to finish.

"This isn't what I expected. I don't know what I expected to be honest. I mean, I know what a bed and breakfast is and I know that…this is just too weird for me, babe. I can't have sex with you here. It's like…it's like having sex at my grandparents' house or something."

Sam laughed at that. "Donnie…." she allowed her hands to fiddle with the bottom of his forest green Henley shirt. "There's no one here. Just me and you and the lady that owns the place. And she's way downstairs. I doubt she is standing outside our door, waiting for us to have sex so she can listen."

"I know but…" he bit his lip pensively as her hands slipped underneath his shirt and toyed with his belt.

"You say no and I'm seriously going to think that there's something wrong with me," she said, her fingers effortlessly undoing his buckle. "I'm going to think that you don't want to marry me anymore. That you don't find me attractive. That you find me ugly and repulsive and that you want nothing to do with me."

"What? Are you insane? Of course I…" he drew in a sharp breath as her cold fingers make contact with his skin as she popped open the button on his jeans. "Of course I still want to marry you. Of course I still find you attractive. You're beautiful baby. Beautiful and sexy and amazing and nothing will ever change how I feel about you. It's just that…"

"It's just what?" she asked, as she pulled down his zipper. "It's just that you don't ever want to have sex with me again? You want us to spend the rest of our lives together sleeping in single beds? You don't ever want to make love ever again?"

"No!" he exclaimed, then bit his lip once more as both of her hands slid down the front of his boxers. "It's not that…it's just…I can't do this here…I just can't and I…"

"And you what? What can't you do? 'Cause from what I'm feeling, you are more than capable of doing a lot of things."

A grin slowly spread from ear to ear as Flack looked down at her. "Do you always have to have your own way?" he asked curiously.

"Ummm…yeah…" Sam nodded energetically. "I do. And it's up to you to give me exactly what I want, when I want and how I want. Understand me, Donald?"

* * *

Sam found herself laughing at that memory. She had gotten what she wanted. And then some. He'd seen to it personally, That weekend away had been a well deserved, wonderful three days of escape. The stress and turmoil of every day life put completely on the back burner. Work issued cell phones left at home, along with case files and to do lists. From Friday afternoon to late Sunday, nothing had mattered except the two of them. They slept in late every morning and then indulged in the delicious lunch delivered to, and left in front of, the door on elegant serving trays. They had taken hand in hand walks around the neighbourhood, breathing in late summer air and chatting and laughing. They ate candlelight dinners and took bubble baths in the massive, claw foot tub in their bathroom. And they shared in long, late night of intense pleasure.

She could recall that weekend with such clarity that it honestly felt as if it had been just yesterday. As if had been the weekend that had just passed and that she was still revelling and glowing in the aftermath of it.

As if her husband was still alive and he was being chided at work for having 'that grin' on his face for the last three days. Don's grin was infamous. Sam had always thought it was a myth that people could tell just by the look on your face that you'd just gotten laid, but Don had a distinct grin that just announced to everyone looking at him what he'd been up to the night before.

_I miss that grin, _she thought, as she took another sip of her vitamin water and recapping the bottle, set it back in the cup holder between the seats. _I miss a lot things. And it's wrong. How can I be happy with my life and the direction it's going in one minute, and then indulging in daydreams about my dead husband the next? How can I be in love with Danny and in love with Donnie at the same time?_

'_Cause you're mental, that's why, _she concluded with a heavy sigh. She cast a glance at the dashboard clock. She still had half an hour to get to One Police Plaza and find parking before her appointment. She was pretty certain that the traffic would start moving some time soon.

Or at least she hoped it would.

Dropping her right hand from the steering wheel, Sam picked up the manila folder sitting on the passenger's seat -papers she needed the shrink to sign in order to be allowed back to work- and fanned herself aggressively with it. Despite the air condition blasting through the dashboard vents, she found herself coated in a thin sheen of sweat. She felt excessively hot, her stomach ached and her heart fluttered in her chest. Classic signs of anxiety. Something she'd been suffering years from, but had become much, much worse when she became a widow and the stress and grief of her life gnawed at her.

The prospect of sitting down with a department psychiatrist -normally not the most compassionate and understanding of people, caring only about what was best for the department- was daunting. Save for Danny, her brother, on the rare occasion Gus and the emotional melt down she'd had three nights before with her father in law, Samantha had both emotionally, as well as physically, closed herself off from the rest of the world after Don had died. She had become a recluse, pushing her colleagues, whom she loved like family, away. She had feared burdening them with her overwhelming grief, and hadn't wanted to suffocate them because she was too needy. The last thing she had wanted was to bring extra stress on them by forcing them to be concerned with how she and eventually, DJ, were doing.

It had been foolish on her part. She had alienated the ones she loved and who genuinely loved her in return. She desperately missed them and wanted them to be part of her, and her son's, lives. She just didn't know how to go about doing it. She was unsure of how to make amends and repair bridges.

And the thought of talking to a complete about how she was feeling…

God, she felt sick to her stomach at the sheer thought.

Sam eased her foot off the brake and pressed down slightly on the gas, allowing the car to crawl forward a couple of feet before having to break again. She fanned herself once more before dropping the folder into the seat once more and drumming her fingernails against the steering wheel. The diamonds in her engagement ring sparkling gloriously in the sunshine that poured into the car.

Two nights before, as she lay awake in Danny's tight embrace -he'd had no problem drifting off, their bodies entangled, still naked from their earlier activities and the rain still hammering down- she'd stared down at her rings as her hand ran slowly along her boyfriend's arm and immediately thought about how it must have made Danny feel to have been making love to her while she wore a wedding band. A symbol of the vows she'd taken and of the undying love and loyalty she'd pledged to her husband.

After that, she'd been unable to sleep for the rest of the night. Her brain working overtime as she wondered just which man she was being unfair to. Those rings were a connection to Don and the life that had shared together. A life that had been cut terribly short. He hadn't been just any man. He'd been her husband. Yet at the same time, those rings represented the past. And Danny represented her future and deserved so much more than having to compete with a ghost.

Yet while she was ready to move on with her new life, Sam wasn't quite ready to let certain aspects of her old life go. And her engagement ring and wedding band would remain on her finger until she was ready to cut the emotional ties that accompanied them.

_Just one more reason why you should have taken the subway, _Sam thought. _Because being stuck in traffic gives you way too much damn time to think._

Music, she decided. Music was always good to keep your mind active. Her anxiety had been so intense from the moment that she'd gotten up that morning that she'd been inflicted with a killer head ache that had made it painful to actually brush her hair. The three Tylenol Three's that she'd taken just before stepping out the door had finally done their trick. Her brain, while still alert, was beginning to feel blessedly fuzzy and the pounding had settled down to a mere whisper.

Flipping open the top of the arm rest between the seats, she quickly thumbed through a small stack of loose Cd's before selecting one that simply read Mixed Itunes Music. Snapping the lid closed, she flicked on the stereo and pressed the button for the 5 CD changer and waited for the compartment to slide open before dropping the CD inside and hitting the closed button. Putting the stereo on shuffle, she cranked the volume and leaned back in her seat and prepared for the long wait, resting her left elbow on her window ledge and fiddled absentmindedly with the pendant around her neck.

Her body immediately tensed and a shiver passed through her as the beginning strains of Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah began to trickle into the car. It had always been one of her favourite songs. Beautiful, but so painfully sad at the same time, Don had always got on her about listening to it over and over again when she'd had a tough day. Telling her that she enjoyed torturing herself and that it just wasn't normal that she liked inflicting that kind of emotional pain on herself. He didn't understand how she managed to find solace in the words. How she was able to, after dealing with a cold blood murderer or having to give a family member the worst news ever and then struggling with her own emotions as they clung to her sobbing, listen to a song like that. He didn't get that the tears she shed while listening to the haunting lyrics and Buckley's tortured voice, were not tears of grief or agony, but tears of renewal. Tears that helped her shed the sadness and left her, when the song was over and there were no more tears to cry, feeling as if she'd been cleansed of all the evil she'd come across.

But now, the words meant so much more. Now those heartbreaking lyrics and that music held a personal meaning to them. And the tears that soon poured freely down her eyes no longer represented re-birth. But the staunch reality of loss, regret and sorrow. And no matter how long and hard her brain screamed at her to turn it off, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. As if the song itself had paralysed her and was making her pay attention more than she ever had before.

"_There was a time you'd let me know, what's real and going on below. But now you never show it to me do you? And remember when I moved in you? The holy dove was moving too, and every breath we drew was hallelujah. Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah. Maybe there's a God above, and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you. It's not a cry you can hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah." _

As the song drew to a close, her heart ached and blood roared through her head. Her hands gripped the wheel so tight her knuckles turned white and her nails dug deep into the rubber. Tears flooded her vision and her lungs fought to draw proper breath through gut wrenching sobs. And as traffic began to move all around there, she sat, completely frozen behind the wheel, unable to do anything more than sit there and cry. Oblivious to the shouts of drivers and the honking of horns as grief held her in its iron tight grasp. She was powerless against it. And she'd long ago learned, that when those moments came upon, whether it be in a public place -which was humiliating to say the least - or in the privacy of her own home, that the best thing to do was just sit back, allow it to wash over her and just ride the waves until her body and mind told her that she was going to be okay.

* * *

And minutes later, she was. The sobbing subsided and the tears ceased and she was able to breathe once again. Her heart settled in her chest and her body stopped trembling and an feeling of immense peace enveloped her from head to toe.

Grabbing a hold of her vitamin water, she uncapped it and took a large swig before reaching underneath her sunglasses and wiping her eyes with her index fingers. Sighing heavily and cursing loudly at the sight of the eyeliner smudged on her skin.

_Raccoon eyes, _she thought in dismay, then taking in a quivering breath and releasing it slowly, loosened her grip on the steering wheel before finally joining in with the regular flow of traffic. Ignoring the vicious stares and profanity tossed her way by other drivers.

_Not a good way to walk into an appointment with the department shrink, _she mused. _A complete emotional mess and your makeup smeared down your cheeks. You need to get your shit together. You need to get a grip on all these emotions and get a handle on them. You need to release that he's gone and not coming back and dwelling on the past is only making things even worse._

_But I can't just simply forget about him, _she argued with herself. _I can't just shrug his memory off and act like he never existed. Don is…was…the love of your life. The man you were going to spend forever with. Who you'd achieved the miracle of life with. And you're not doing him, or you or the son he helped make, any justice by pretending he meant nothing to you._

_But you can't disrespect Danny by putting him second to someone that physically doesn't exist anymore, either. You can't be intimate with him and telling him you love him and then minutes later be wishing your dead husband back. That isn't fair and he doesn't deserve that. He deserves you. All of you. And you're not giving him that if you're torn between him and someone that is completely unattainable. _

_One person cannot be this fucked up, _she concluded. _There is no possible way that being this torn and this confused can be healthy. So you need to…_

All thoughts were cut off as her cell phone, tucked into her purse on the passenger seat rang noisily. Keeping her eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel, she reached over and fumbled through her purse, blindly searching for her pink metallic cell in the midst of the clutter. Her fingers closed around the cold plastic and she yanked the object out and cast a quick glance at the call display.

Her heart nearly stopped at the words that greeted her.

D. FLACK.

_What in the holy hell, _she thought, her hands shaking as she flipped the phone open and held it to her ear. Wondering if she'd be able to form proper words or put together a simple thought. And for even a brief irrational moment, hoping that she'd hear that familiar voice on the other end.

* * *

"Hello?" she asked in a tiny, wary voice.

"Samantha?"

Relief, and disappointment rushed through her as her father in law spoke her name. Tears threatened once again, and she cursed herself for being so goddamn foolish. For being so stupid to actually think the impossible had happened.

"Uh…hi…dad…" she managed through the lump of emotion sitting in her throat.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. "You sound a little…"

"I'm okay," Sam replied. "I'm fine. I just…I just had a little a moment when you called. When I saw the name on the call display…you won't believe this…" she gave a nervous, embarrassed laugh. "But when I saw D Flack come up on my call display, I…well…I guess for a split second I thought that Donnie was calling me. Isn't that stupid? 'Cause where the hell would he be calling me from? It's not like heaven has cell phones and if they do, I doubt they subscribe to call display…"

"Samantha…."

"Unless he's actually alive somewhere. Like maybe he's been hiding out for an entire year. Maybe he just ran away from home. Maybe he just didn't want to be married anymore. Maybe he didn't want to be saddled down with a wife and a kid and he just needed to get away. 'Cause even though I'd kill him for being such an asshole, at least he's still alive, right? And if he's still alive then maybe he's regretting putting me through hell and he's calling to beg for forgiveness and ask to come home. 'Cause that would be okay, you know. If he was. I'd be pissed off for a long time and make him sleep on the couch for like forever, but he could come home. I wouldn't stop him and I'd…"

"Samantha…" Flack Senior spoke louder, his voice firm and no nonsense.

"I'm sorry…" she gave another laugh and turned on her left hand signal as she approached the intersection of Broadway and 38th street. "I can't stop myself when I get rambling. I say stupid shit. And that was probably the stupidest shit I've ever said in my entire life. 'Cause Donnie's dead and I know that. I shouldn't have…"

"I should have thought twice about calling you on my cell phone," her father in law said apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't think anything of it. I didn't think what it would do to you to see that name come up."

"I didn't think it would anything to me to be honest. But it did…it really did. It's totally screwed me up and I…" she took a deep breath. "And I don't think I can go through with this appointment, dad. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready to face these people. There's no way that I'm ready to go back to work if I'm behaving like this."

"You are ready to go back and you will go back," Flack Senior told her. "It's been a year now. It's been a year and you owe it to yourself and my grandson to join the human race again. You need to take a deep breath, calm yourself down and get on with things. You need to go back to work and you know it. It will keep you sane."

"But I'm not sane," she argued. "I'm not sane if I'm doing this to myself constantly. If I can't go through a day without wishing Donnie back. If I can love with Danny but still be in love with my husband. My dead husband. That isn't normal. That isn't sane and I…"

"You're human," he interjected. "You're a human being with normal human being feelings. You deserve to love and be loved. And Don…my son would want that. He wouldn't want you to curl up and die. Live your life in constant grief over him. He'd want you to be happy. He'd want someone to take care of you and DJ. To love both of you. And if Danny is that person…well I don't have to like the idea, but I do accept it."

"I'm confused," she admitted. "I am so confused. Who am I being unfair to? Don or Danny? I just don't know anymore."

"You're being unfair to yourself," her father in law said. "You're being unfair to yourself by second guessing how you're feeling. But thinking that you're somehow being unfaithful to Don and holding back because you feel disloyal. Listen to me, Samantha. My son loved you. With all his heart and his soul. But he would not want you to do this to yourself."

"I know…" she sniffled. Anxiety eating away at her once again as One Police Plaza came into view. "I'm sorry. For going off like this. Just these moments come on me. I can't control them and I can't stop them and I just…"

"You just need to trust yourself. And Danny. That's what you need to do."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"I really shouldn't have called you on my cell," Flack Senior sighed. "All of this 'cause of my name…"

"Your son was proud of his name," Sam blurted out. Unsure of why she'd even said it. "I know that things weren't always great between you and that you two…just know that he bore that name proudly. And that he did good by it."

Silence emanated over the phone.

"Dad?" she asked nervously. "Christ…I'm sorry…I never should have said that. I never…"

"Thank you," he said, emotion playing on his voice. "For saying that."

Sam smiled.

"So the reason I was calling…" he cleared his throat noisily. "…was to see if it was okay if I mashed up a digestive cookie in some of DJ's milk and fed it to him. Pat's going on and on about how babies aren't supposed to eat solids before six months and I was telling her that we fed our kids solids, you know, pablum at four months and she's yapping about how things have changed since then."

"I doubt a mashed up digestive cookie in breast milk is going to hurt him," Sam said with a grin, as she signalled right in an attempt to pull into the entrance to the underground lot of her destination.

"I just thought it would be a nice treat is all," her father in law reasoned. "I mean at this age, I was sneaking Donnie mashed potatoes and gravy and whatever little goodies we could get past the old battle axe."

Sam couldn't help but laugh at the nickname for her mother in law.

"We did," Senior chuckled. "Kid used to love it. Always had a huge appetite, you know."

"I know…" Sam said, as she tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder as she undid her window in order to snag a parking ticket off of the clerk in the kiosk. "Don loved to eat. I honestly don't know where he put it all. Mind you, he was starting to get bigger. He'd gained quite a bit of weight from the time we started dating until he died."

"He was built like a brick shit house," her father in law laughed. "A good woman and some good cooking will do that for ya."

"Well I'm not so sure he'd agree with you on the latter. I'm not Betty Crocker. Which is why he usually did all the cooking. Or we ordered out."

"Or showed up at Hammerback's place or ours," Senior added.

"Exactly. I couldn't let my husband starve now could I? But DJ…DJ is definitely his father's son. He loves to eat."

"I've noticed. Little bugger can polish them bottles off like no one's business. So it's a good to go on the cookie, then?"

"It's a good to go," Sam confirmed, and pulled her car into the first available spot she came across. "I'm here now. So I better…"

"Keep your chin up, love. You'll do fine. I've got faith in you."

"Well at least one of us does," she said, and bidding farewell, disconnected the call.

Snapping her phone closed, Sam tucked it back into her purse and then killed the ignition.

She sat silent for several minutes behind the wheel of her car. Mentally preparing herself for the emotional journey she knew was in store for the second she stepped foot outside of that vehicle.

_You'll be okay, _she told herself confidently. _You're going to be fine. One step at a time, one breath at a time. It's all you can do._

Her eyes fell on her engagement ring and her wedding band once more. And clasping her left hand in her right, she closed her eyes tightly and concentrated on that cold jewellery pressing against her finger.

_Please give me strength, _she prayed. _If anyone can help me through this, it's you. If anyone can make me strong and brave, it's you._

_It's always been you._

* * *

**Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing and even just plain lurking! I appreciate all of the support and can't thank you all enough! I am humbled by all of the wonderful readers and friends that I have gained through sharing my stories with you!**

**Please R and R folks!**

**Special thanks to:**

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**BlueEyedAuthor**


	21. Chapter 21

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN SAMANTHA FLACK, AND LOVE HER OR HATE HER, I ENJOY WORKING WITH HER.**

* * *

**Open Up**

"Somebody wants you  
Somebody needs you  
Somebody dreams about you every single night  
Somebody can't breathe without you, it's lonely  
Somebody hopes someday you will see  
That somebody's me."  
-Somebody's Me, Enrique Iglesias

* * *

The heels of her black pumps clicking noisily along the thirty-fifth floor, Stella strode quickly and purposefully towards the employee break room.

The two extra days she'd taken off after returning home from Virginia had done wonders for her. Both physically and mentally. The year anniversary of Flack and Lindsay's death had been painful. Standing there in that farmer's field, with the wind whipping her hair against her face and scattering her seemingly endless flow of tears, had been emotionally draining. As had listening to the muffled sobs and sniffles of the family members around her, strangers united in their grief, the weight of Adam's hand on her shoulder not only providing her with a stunning source of comfort, but keeping her anchored to the ground when her resolve threatened to crumble. It had been Adam, normally the high strung and anxious one, who'd done a complete three sixty and had gone from nervous and rambling to stoic and serene. His trembling hands the only sign of emotion as he crouched down in front of the American flag bearing his brother in law's name and loving placed DJ's picture in the grass. His voice strong and confident compared to Stella's shaky deliver as they read Flack and Lindsay's names off of the passenger manifesto.

Adam had changed considerably in the past year. While his hair was still unruly and his face still unshaven and his clothing still reminded those around him of a frat boy who'd rolled off his couch in a drunken stupor and yanked on whatever his hands blindly reached for, Adam had become a man. His brother in law's sudden and tragic death had forced him to grow up and grow up fast. Those late nights of pizza and beer and Guitar Hero and playing Second Life had taken a back seat to helping his sister through her mind numbing and earth shattering grief. While he was still the Adam Ross that rambled incessantly when he was nervous and who was still caught on occasion singing and dancing in the trace lab as he listened to his Ipod, there was a maturity, a wise old man of sorts that existed just below the surface. Seeing his sister in the state she was had rocked Adam to the core. Never in a million years had he expected something like that to happen. No one had. And he'd quickly had to step up and be the slayer of dragons and the chaser of demons when the sister who'd always been his protector and best friend had lost everything.

It had also taught him to never take life, and those people in your life, for granted again. He'd been witness to how quickly things could change. How one minute you could have it all and the next be completely broken. And if Flack's death had taught him anything, it had been how precious life was. Because one moment Flack was a loving and attentive husband who was proudly announcing the pending arrival of his first born child, and the next…well the next moment he simply didn't exist anymore.

So when Adam had fallen for Gus Broussard, he'd fallen fast and hard. Surprisingly not only everyone around him, but Adam himself. And shockingly enough, that nervous and slightly awkward side of him had never once reared it's ugly head during his red hot pursuit of the woman he was determined to call his own. He was completely besotted with her. To Adam she was everything he'd been looking for and more. She was feisty and highly intelligent and he was drawn to her witty and sarcastic personality. And that Louisiana accent that he readily admitted 'did something unexplainable to him'. Physically speaking, Gus was a goddess in Adam's eyes. Five foot nine, curvy and desirable, with wavy blond hair that she usually wore up -Adam always gave a shudder and a dirty little grin whenever he talked about how unbelievably hot it was to be the one responsible for yanking out that hair clip or bobby pins, to which Danny and the other guys in the lab always rolled their eyes and made gagging noises- and stunning green eyes.

Gus had been a challenge. And then some. The normal Adam, the old Adam, would have just thrown his hands in the air and accepted that she was way out of his league and simply mopped about his lot in life as the perpetual geek with the lingering baby fat. But this Adam…the mature and confident and determined Adam refused to give up without a fight. He pursued Gus relentlessly, to the point where his co-workers jokingly expressed concern that he was bordering on becoming a stalker. While Gus was flattered by the attention -the barrage of compliments, the coffee and snacks that would be waiting for her at her desk and the invitations for dinner and drinks- she had politely turned him down each and every time. She found him attractive -in an adorkable way, as Sam always described her brother- and insanely smart and down to earth, but she simply wasn't looking for a relationship. Fresh off a nasty break up, a man was the last thing she wanted, or needed.

Adam's persistence however, had eventually paid off. Gus had finally, after months of turning him down, she'd agreed to go out to dinner with him. _But just once Ross, _she'd stressed. _One night and that was it. No getting your hopes up._

That had been eight months ago. And now the commitment phob Augusta Broussard and the socially awkward but supremely lovable Adam Ross were inseparable. Splitting their nights between their respective apartments and spending every waking moment together, the gruesome twosome, as Danny often called them, were travelling a slow, yet steady path towards domestic bliss.

After the horrific childhood Adam had suffered through -physical abuse at the hands of his father and emotional and mental abuse on the part of his mother- it was amazing that he'd grown up to be a fully functional and 'normal' adult. While he still flinched when someone raised their hand or made a sudden movement in his close proximity -the incident with the Wilder Gang had brought up the nightmares of his past and he was still struggling with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder- Adam had done well for himself. He battled his inner demons and struggled at times with his OCD, but he was successfully at both his professional and personal lives.

And he continued to brighten everyone's existence by his mere presence. Stella for one, was extremely proud of him for coming as far as he had. And for stepping up to the plate when his sister's life had disintegrated around him. And for knowing when to step back and not take it personally when Sam shut herself off from the world and everyone who had loved her and she had loved in return.

And she would always remember how he'd been there for her in that field in Virginia. For putting his own pain and suffering aside to help her deal with her own.

* * *

Stella was just glad it was over. That the memorial service was behind them. The last three hundred and sixty five days before it had been a never ending struggling to get through the fog of grief and loss that hung over the lab. But they had all made it through by leaning on each other. By never being scared to shed tears and to seek out a shoulder to cry on. By never shying away from sharing memories of their lost friends and by never being afraid to admit they were having a down day. The team had banded together, and Lindsay and Flack's deaths had brought them all closer then they could have ever imagined. And while the pain would always be there and they'd always miss their friends, with each passing day, even with each passing hour, it got a little easier to bear. Stella had done her grieving and her remembering in the privacy and sanctity of her own apartment upon her return to the city. She'd locked herself in doors and spent the majority of her time in her pyjamas or wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with a bottle of wine and her favourite music playing on the stereo.

That morning, once her alarm clock went off, she'd gotten up and gotten out of bed and gotten on with her life. The long and trying anniversary now behind her, she'd made herself a quick breakfast and took an even quicker shower and got dressed and ready for work with only the smallest thought of the friends she'd loved and lost. Then she'd left her apartment and headed for work. Ready to get on with the next three hundred and sixty odd days of life.

Right now however, her need for caffeine and to put something in her stomach far surpassed the desire to buckle down and immerse herself in the stack of case files that took up residence on her desk. And as the clock neared two in the afternoon and her lack of a proper lunch was starting to play havoc on her system, she was looking forward to a cup of tea and the fruit salad and baklava she'd brought from home.

As Stella approached the quiet lunchroom, she caught sight of Danny -the only occupant of the room- his cell phone pressed to his ear as he leaned back against the counter next to microwave as he waited for something to heat up. He was clad in a pair of baggy, dark grey jeans, his ever present Converse sneakers and a baby blue dress shirt that was at least two sizes too big and definitely didn't come from his side of the closet. The top three buttons were undone, revealing the white wife beater he wore underneath and the sleeves had been rolled up to just above his elbows.

To Stella, he looked like the Danny of old. The extremely short, spiky hair, the unshaven face, the glasses. The broad, charming and brilliant smile that had been absent for far too long. This was the Danny Messer of three years ago. That wandered the hall with a spring in his step, who cracked you up with a well timed, snide or witty remark. The Danny that started to fade away after the brutality inflicted on him at the hands of the Wilder Gang, and who had completely vanished after Ruben Sandoval's death. And just as Lindsay had forgiven but not quite forgotten and had began to successfully chip away at Danny's coat of protective armour and began to help him restore himself -and while they were immersed in creating their happily ever after- he'd lost her so suddenly and tragically. And the old Danny slipped away once again in favour of a wounded, dark and depressed one.

And now…well now Stella felt as if she'd stumbled into a time warp and had wound up back in 2006.

"Well if you're that tired, I guess you shouldn't have come after me for seconds," Danny said into the phone, his eyes sparkling playfully. "Second and thirds," he added with a chuckle. "I mean, I know I'm extremely irresistible and you just can't help yourself but…" he laughed even harder. "Easy…easy… I am just teasing ya…of course I'm not complaining…I'm doing everything but complaining…"

Stella lingered in the hallway, feeling slightly guilty as she eavesdropped on an unsuspecting Danny. He wasn't aware that someone was listening to his conversation. An obviously very personal conversation at that. And while she was ecstatic to see him so happy and to hear that hearty laugh again, she was taken back by the content of the call. He'd quite clearly met someone. And by the sound of it, things were pretty serious.

"I know you're nervous," Danny's tone suddenly changed. The playfulness was gone and had been replaced with concern and empathy. "And anxious…and scared…and a whole bunch of other emotions tossed in the mix, and trust me, I'd be right there beside you sitting on the couch and holding your hand if you wanted me to be…I get that baby, I get that…I know it's something you need to do on your own…I just want you to know that I was ready, willing and able to help you through this…I know you do…I know you appreciate it."

The timer on the microwave sounded and Stella watched as Danny turned his back towards her, and tucking his cell phone between his ear and his shoulder, popped open the door on the small appliance and removed its contents.

"I'm just grabbing something to eat now," he continued with his conversation, and reached out with his right hand to snag a plastic bag off of the counter. "I would have ate sooner but I got caught up working in trace with Adam…yeah…your little care package you left for me on the counter this morning…you know how much I love your chicken teriyaki stir fry…don't be like that now," he laughed. "I did not eat enough to feed an army…okay, okay, so maybe a small army…what are you talking about I didn't kiss you goodbye?…Well no, I didn't wake you up 'cause I didn't have the heart to, but I did kiss you goodbye…I'll make it up to you, how's that sound?…yeah…" he laughed. "I know exactly what you're idea of making up entails."

Stella smirked at that comment, then announced her arrival by rapping her knuckles against the open glass door.

Danny glanced over his shoulder and gave a polite, if not slightly irritated smile. And maybe even a bit embarrassed considering just want kind of conversation he'd been caught having. "I gotta go babe," he said into the phone. "I'm gonna eat quickly and try and get some more work done before I head over there…what are you talking about? Of course I've got time to meet you. I've always got time for you…don't worry about that, I already cleared it with Mac and he said to go ahead and take care of my personal business…if I'm not in the waiting room when you get out, wait outside the building for me and I'll hook up with you there, okay?…A'right…I'll see you soon," a broad smile took over his face once again. "Me too…a'right…ciao…"

Pressing end on his cell phone, Danny snapped it closed and slipped it into the holder clasped to the left front pocket of his jeans. "Just taking care of some business," he said, as he carried his container of food and plastic bag towards the closest table.

"You don't have to explain anything to me," Stella assured him. "Your personal business is just that."

"True," Danny agreed, and using his foot to pull out a chair, dropped his items on the table and took a seat. "You just getting to eat, too?" he asked, and removing a can of Coke from the bag, popped open the tab.

Stella nodded and journeying across the break room, grabbed the plastic kettle and moved to the sink to fill it with water. "I've been so busy keeping an eye on Nick and going over his work that I haven't really had time to concentrate on my own. Or on myself for that matter."

"Stokes knows what's he doing," Danny said, as he peeled the lid off of the Tupperware container. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a fork and stirred the food thoroughly. "He doesn't need anyone holding his hand or double checkin' his work. All them years in the Vegas lab? He's got lots of experience."

"Well you know what Mac is like when it comes to bringing someone into the fold," Stella said, as she plugged the kettle in. "He likes to keep an eye on them for a bit. Just because he has experience, doesn't mean that Nick doesn't have to go through the same scrutiny and probation period that the rest of you had to go through."

"Doesn't think twice about shipping people off to the quacks either," Danny muttered and dug into the steaming helping of food before him.

Stella frowned, and opening the cupboard over the sink, removed a canister of tea bags and a chipped and worn white china mug emblazoned with blue and yellow daises. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"Just means that he's always so gung-ho to send us to the wolves when we fuck up or we've got issues," Danny made air quotes with one hand as the last word tumbled out of his lips.

"The department has had a huge mental health initiative since nine eleven," Stella said. "You know what. The emotional well being of his employees is very, very important to Mac. He doesn't want anyone on staff that could be considered…"

"Depraved?"

"I was going to say troubled," she told him. "This is a tough and tedious job, Danny. We see a lot of horrible things. We hear a lot of terrible stories and deal with the lowest of the low day in and day out. That plays on everyone. And some people…well some people aren't able to put it all behind them at the end of a shift. It eats away at them and burrows under the skin. And the next thing you know, all of those bad things all cluster together and a weaker person…well a weaker person just snaps. And Mac can't have that happening while someone is on the job. He has to protect not only them…"

"But the lab itself," Danny concluded. "Yeah…I get that. And I understand it. But what I don't get is why someone is construed as mental or emotionally weak just 'cause they're going through some heavy duty shit. Why can't someone be going through a normal grieving process and not have people call them crazy? Or have someone suggest that they need help just 'cause they're not healing as fast as the majority of everyone else?"

"Because there's a thin line between normal grieving and obsession," Stella said, as she opened the canister in her hands, and plucking out a tea bag, dropped it into her mug.

"Samantha is not obsessed," Danny argued.

"I didn't realize we were talking about Samantha," Stella said, and turning around to face Danny, leaned back against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I understand that Mac needs to make sure that she's equipped to handle the job again. I get that. And I also get that the integrity of the lab is the most important thing to him. And he can't have someone working here that can't be trusted. That he has to worry about having a break down at a crime scene."

"You're wrong, Danny. The integrity of the lab is not the most important thing to him. Samantha's health and well being is. It's the most important thing to all of us. And if she's not emotionally ready to handle the job…"

"She's fine," he said. "She's more than ready to come back to work. Trust me."

"I know that you're exceptionally close to her Danny. And that you have this overwhelming desire to protect her from everything that is wrong with the world. That you've been there for her through thick and thin. But the fact of the matter is that it's only been you. The rest of us…" she sighed. "The rest of us she just pushed away. We don't know how she's doing."

"Can't fault someone for letting grief overpower them," he told his colleague. "People deal with their grief in different ways. Her way of dealing was shutting everyone out. It wasn't meant to be taken personally. It was just the way she felt. I guess being around everyone from work…well maybe being around everyone from work just made her think of Flack and made things worse for her."

Stella nodded slowly as she considered his words. "I'm sure she's doing a lot better," she said. "But Mac just can't take your word for it. The department has strict guidelines that he has to follow. And having her cleared to return to work by a staff psychologist is one of those things. He's not doing it to be mean to her. He's doing it to protect her."

"I'm not disrespecting Mac," Danny informed her. "Mac's gotta do what Mac's gotta do, you know? I just…deciding to come back to work was hard enough for her to do. Coming back to this place, the place where she first met Flack and there's a million and one memories floating around? That's tough, Stella. Everywhere she goes here and everywhere she looks, she's going to confronted by something that reminds her of him. The job isn't the challenge. It's what exists in this halls and in this lab. And I just worry that…I guess I just worry that if she doesn't get the support from everyone here that she needs, that she'll run away. And that this time, she'll shut down completely and we'll never get her back again."

"No one is going to let that happen," Stella vowed, and turned back to the kettle as it clicked off, signalling that the water was boiled and ready to go. "We're not going to let her drown, Danny. We know how hard it's going to be for her. And we're not going to turn our backs on her. Everyone's going to make her return as easy as possible for her."

"I know…" Danny said, listening to Stella moving around behind him. The rattling noise as she grabbed a clean spoon from the dish rack by the sink. The clinking of metal on china as she stirred the tea bag in the mug several times before removing it and dropping it in the trash can under the sink. The sound of the fridge door being yanked open and then pushed closed again.

"We're all excited to be getting her back," she assured him, as she dropped a small, white cardboard box from the Greek bakery near her apartment in the middle of the table, then walked around and took a seat in the chair to Danny's left.

"And she's excited, for the most part to be coming back," Danny said. "I just…I'm worried about her, you know? 'Cause I've gotten closer to her in the past year and I…I know that we've always been friends, since she first started and that friendship really picked up once she hooked up with Flack and I got my shit together with Lindsay, but I…" he moved the food around the plastic container with his fork. "I worry about her. And I care about her. A lot."

"I know you do, Danny. And we're going to help her adjust. We all care about her."

"You do," he confirmed. "But as far as I'm concerned…" he sighed heavily. "It's different," he said. "It's just different."

Stella didn't respond. Instead she leaned back in her chair and sipped quietly at her tea, her mind putting all of the pieces together. The change in both Danny's appearance and his personality. The flirtatious and playful and rather intimate conversation that he was having over the phone. The concern and the assurances to the person on the other end that everything was going to be fine and that they were going to be okay. The 'me too', which she could only assume was his response to an 'I love you spoken by the party on the other end. And that shirt that belonged to man that was obviously much bigger than him. Or had been. And while the realization of what was going on in Danny's personal life began to sank in and she was surprisingly okay with it, she also couldn't deny the pang of hurt and the slight betrayal she felt was being done to both Lindsay and Flack's memories.

* * *

"Hello Kitty?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Danny arched an eyebrow, perplexed.

"On the side of the bowl," Stella nodded at the container. "There's a Hello Kitty sticker on the side of it. And I doubt that you make a practice of putting stickers of any kind on your dishes and bowls."

"It's all she had I guess," he said. "I didn't notice it until I took it out of the bag to warm it up."

"How long has this been going on for?" she asked, and leaned forward to pry open the lid of the small cardboard box in the middle of the table.

"What's that?" Danny inquired, as he continued eating his lunch.

"You and Sam," she replied. "And don't you dare sit there and tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. Or that I am reading too much into things. I'm not a stupid woman, Danny. I am more than capable of putting two and two together. The conversation that I heard bits and pieces of, your annoyance with the idea of her going to see a department shrink, your concern. A Tupperware container with a sticker of Hello Kitty on it? We all know that Hello Kitty is Sam's thing. And I won't even go into whose shirt you're wearing."

He chewed thoroughly on the food in his mouth before swallowing noisily. "I ended up staying longer then what I had clean clothes for. And I wasn't up to driving all the way into the city to get more. So I found the shirt in a basket of clean laundry in the basement and she told me to go ahead and wear it. It's no big deal."

"True…wearing your dead best friend's clothing isn't a major thing," Stella said. "But being in a relationship with your best friend's wife? I think that constitutes as a big deal."

Danny sighed and took a sip of his pop.

"How long?" she pressed.

"About five days now," he admitted. "It just…it just sort of happened. We didn't go consciously looking for something to happen between us. It's not like we ever sat down and talked about something like this. About developing feelings for each other outside of friendship. I mean, I guess both of us thought about it in our minds from time to time. Maybe. I don't know. I haven't thought about asking her about that."

"But you've been feeling it for a while?"

Danny shrugged. "I guess…I don't know. All I know is that one the afternoon of the anniversary, I was sitting across the table from her when I took her to lunch and I realized I noticed things about her that I never paid much attention to before. The way she smelled, the way her clothes looked on her, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs, the way she bites her bottom lip when she's nervous and the way the tips of her ears turn right when she's embarrassed…

Stella smiled.

"Just things that I never noticed or looked for before. Things that…"

"Things that Flack always noticed about her. The way a guy who's madly and desperately in love notices every little single thing about someone."

Danny nodded. "I don't know when things exactly changed between us. Or when I changed when it came to her. I just know that it hit me at that exact moment that I wasn't looking at her as my buddy's wife anymore. I was looking at her as a beautiful, desirable woman that I wanted a shot at. All I know is that I couldn't sit back and not go after it, you know. 'Cause if I've learned anything in the last year, it's not to let anything go unspoken. Not to let any stone go unturned. And I know if I didn't try, I'd wonder for the rest of my life about what could have been. I don't know why it happened. I don't know why it was Sam that I fell in love with."

"Your heart doesn't need a reason, Danny. It just does what it does. And all you can really do is trust it to know what the hell it's doing."

"At first I was worried that I was just feeling these things 'cause I was lonely. 'Cause I was desperate to be with someone. To have someone in my life. That I was just searching for a replacement for Lindsay. That I wasn't feeling these things legitimately."

"And now?" Stella asked.

"And now I realize that this is the real deal. I realize that what my heart is feeling and what it's telling me is legit. I'm not looking for a replacement for Lindsay. 'Cause no one can replace her. Just like I can never replace Flack. And I don't ever expect to take his place in Sammie's heart. And she doesn't expect the same thing with me. But we do love each other and we want to make new places in our hearts. For each other."

"And you both deserve that," Stella told him. "You both deserve to be happy again. To love and be loved."

"But…" Danny said.

"No but. Why would you think there'd be a but?"

"'Cause I guess that small guilty part of me is expecting the worst every time I tell someone about this. That part of my brain that keeps yelling at me to just walk away. To go for someone that isn't my best friend's wife. Anyone but her."

"Danny, Flack is dead. He's never coming back. No matter how badly we all want him to. And aside from Sam, you knew him best. And aside from you, she knew Lindsay best. So in a way, it makes complete sense that some higher power brought the two of you together in this way. The two people who adored and cherished Flack and Linds. Who wanted nothing more than to spend forever with them. The love that you two had for them…well now it's transforming into something completely different between the two of you. Two broken people helping each other become whole again. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

He nodded.

"There was no but. And there's never going to be a but," Stella assured him. "Life works in mysterious ways. And maybe the same power who a year ago took Flack and Lindsay away is now conspiring to bring you and Sam together in a way that was never possible before. So don't think you ever have to sit here and explain or defend yourself to me. I loved Lindsay. You know that. And no one was more happier for the two of you than I was, believe me. And not a day goes by that I don't wish her back. For the both of us."

He sniffled noisily and took a swig of his pop in an attempt to wash down the lump of emotion sitting square in his throat.

"But nothing can ever bring her back and we both know that. And Lindsay would not want you to go through life miserable and alone. And she was so close to Sam that…I don't know…she was so close to her and loved her so much that maybe this is Lindsay's doing. Maybe she's pushing you in this direction because she knew Sam so well and knows, from wherever she is now, that the two of you have this second chance together. To find something so profound and so completely different."

"This is pretty deep Stel," he commented, and cleared his throat noisily.

"I suppose. But I think it's also exactly what you need to hear. I know what that heart of yours is capable of Danny. And I know what kind of man you are. And Sam needs someone like you. It's why Flack asked you to make that promise to him. Why he trusted you to take care of her if anything ever happened. Because he knew you'd follow through. He knew you'd stop at nothing to protect her. And his unborn baby."

"I don't think he was giving me permission to shack up with his wife," Danny remarked dryly.

"I don't think so either. But what I do think is that he didn't expect her to be go through life without never finding love again. And because he knows you…Danny, he loved you like a brother. And I know he's not up there somewhere cursing you out for feeling this way about Sammie. I'm sure he's not calling you every name in the book and swearing divine retribution against you. If anything, he's relieved that it was you she found. Because he knows you'll never hurt her."

"And I won't," Danny vowed. "I won't ever hurt her. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her. Or for DJ. Losing Lindsay…losing Lindsay taught me to never hold anything back. To do whatever it takes to keep the people in my life happy and feeling safe and secure. I fucked up huge with her in the past. And I made amends and I did my penance. And by the grace of God, she took me back and helped me get my shit together. And losing her…" he sighed heavily. "Losing her nearly destroyed me. But it also showed me how precious life is. And that I can't take anything for granted. And when all of this started surfacing with Sammie…I can't not be with her. I can't walk away from her and spend the rest of my life kicking myself in the ass for it."

"Then don't," Stella said. "Don't walk away from her. Hold onto her as tight as you can and create something wonderful and new with her. No one around here is going to fault either of you for wanting to be happy again, Danny. I can't promise you that everyone is going to be as open and accepting as I am…"

"We're expecting a few people to go right ape shit," he confirmed. "But you know what? That's their right. We don't have to please anyone but ourselves."

"Exactly. All that matters is you and Sam and DJ. And if you're happy and your conscience is clear…"

"It is," he said confidently. "It definitely is."

"Then take a deep breath and jump right into the deep end," she advised. "And if you ever need someone to pull you back out or someone to throw you a life line…well I'm here, Danny. Okay?"

"Okay…" he gave a nod. "And thank you. For being honest and for not jumping all over me about this."

"You're the one that was honest. You could have easily just told me to mind my own business and closed yourself off. Your usual MO. But you didn't. You didn't get defensive or push me away. That's a new side of Danny Messer. A more mature side. One that I am extremely happy to see."

"I'm happy to see him too, to be honest. I think the last year…I think in a way it changed me more for the better than it did for the worst. If that makes any sense."

"It made you open your eyes," Stella told him. "It made you realize that it was time to put some of the old Danny to rest."

"I guess…" he said.

"Yet at that same time, there's suddenly a whole lot of the old Danny sitting in front of me," she laughed, and helping herself to some baklava, pushed the box towards him in offering. "You've physically gone back to the old Danny. The hair, the goatee and the scruffy cheeks, the…"

"The glasses," he finished with a chuckle, and plucked a piece of the Greek dessert from the box and nodded his thanks. "The glasses were Sammie's idea. Well not so much her idea, but she said that she missed them. That she thought I looked better in them."

"I definitely have to agree with her on that," Stella said. "You just didn't seem like Danny at all without them."

"She says I went a little girlie when I got rid of them. Like the glasses to me is like the hair was to Samson," he rolled his eyes. "Whatever…but all I know is that she likes them and I indulged her."

"And I bet she was very happy," Stella grinned. "Which would explain that hickey on your neck."

His cheeks flushed and he rubbed at the mark on the left side of his neck. "Bite mark, actually…" he corrected. "She's a tiny little thing, but man…she's vicious."

Stella laughed at that.

"Now that I've talked your ear off…how goes things with Brendon?"

"We broke up," she answered simply.

Danny coughed on a mouthful of baklava and washed it down with a sip of pop. "You what now?"

"Same night I got back from Virginia. Things just weren't working," she shrugged. "I mean, don't get me wrong. Things were really good between us. He was extremely handsome and extremely charming and we had some amazing times together. I just…I couldn't see a future in it. In us. And I guess I'm at the point in my life that I want my own happily ever after. And when I sat and thought about it, I didn't see that ever happening with Brendon."

"Fair enough," Danny said. "Sounds like we're both doing a whole lot of opening up today. You normally would have just told me things were good and left it at that."

"One good turn deserves another, I guess," Stella smiled. "And having you trust me enough to be so completely open and honest? I guess it made me want to do the same. And I think that this past year, and being at that memorial service and thinking about everything we've all lost…well I think it's made me realize a couple of things too."

Danny just nodded.

"One, to not hold anything back. From anyone. And two…to go after exactly what it is and who it is that I want."

"And you know who that is?" he asked curiously.

"Between me and you? Yeah, I do. And it's someone who I've spent years wanting to pursue and never quite had the guts to go after. And now…well now I'm just going to throw caution to the wind and say to hell with it. I'm going to go up to him and tell him exactly how I feel and tell him exactly what I want. When the time is right, of course."

"Of course," Danny said. Then grinned slyly. "Something tells me that Mac won't know what hit 'em."

Stella felt her face flush. "How did you know that…"

"I didn't. I just tossed it out there," he chuckled. "And you just confirmed it by blushing like an innocent school girl."

"You have to swear that…"

"That I won't say a word to anyone," Danny finished, as he snapped the lid back on his plastic container and slipped it, and his dirty fork back into his plastic bag. The pulled out a serving of carefully wrapped mystery dessert. "Especially not to Mac."

"You're a Godsend," Stella declared, and sipped at her tea.

"So years, huh?" Danny began to peel open the Saran around the cookies. "And you're just getting up the cajones to do something about it?"

"It's like you said. About not wanting to go through life wondering what if. I can't do that to myself, Danny. I have take the chance. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? He laughs in my face and boots me out of his office?"

"Never gonna happen," he said. "Everyone knows Mac has the hots for you."

Stella arched an eyebrow.

"Well everyone except you apparently," Danny laughed. Then frowned down at the cookies in front of him. "What is it with this woman and Oreos? I don't know how many times I have to tell her that I don't like them. I know they're her favourite brand of crack, but does she really need to push the damn things on me?"

"It's a lost cause," Stella teased. "You've fallen in love with her so you have to take the whole package. And that includes Oreo cookies and Hello Kitty."

"Small price to pay," Danny declared.

Stella reached across the table to squeeze his hand lightly. "You're going to be okay, Danny. Your life? It's going to be just fine."

"Thank you," he said. And then gave her a wink. "And so is yours, Stel."

She smiled and gave a nod.

And prayed to God that he was right.

* * *

**Sorry this took so long! The muses have been elsewhere! Thanks for being patient and hanging in there! As usual, a massive thank you to everyone that is reading and reviewing. And even just lurking! I appreciate all of the support!**

**Please R and R folks!**

**Special thanks to:**

**CSINYMinute**

**Madison Bellows**

**Hope4sall**

**xSamiliciousx**

**Hopel3ss Desire 69**

**Soccer-bitch**

**Forest Angel**

**High Queen Reicheru**

**BlueEyedAuthor**


	22. Chapter 22

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE CSI FRANCHISE OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. OR ANYONE OR ANYTHING RELATED TO FRIENDS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY DJ. **

**SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FOLKS, MY MUSE DECIDED TO TAKE AN EXTENDED VACATION TO CABO. SHE DID HOWEVER COME BACK GLORIOUSLY TANNED AND EXTREMELY DRUNK. DAMN THOSE KEY LIME MARGARITAS BY THE POOL.**

* * *

**Out in the open**

"Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone  
I'll be waiting all there's left to do is run  
You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess  
It's a love story baby just say yes  
Romeo save me, they try to tell me how to feel  
This love is difficult, but it's real,  
Don't be afraid  
We'll make it out of this mess  
It's a love story baby just say yes."  
-Love Story, Taylor Swift

* * *

Samantha stepped onto the elevator as it reached the fourteenth floor of One Police Plaza and angrily jammed her index finger into the button for the ground floor. The therapist appointment had gone worse than even she had expected it to. She had walked into that office with her head held high and her dignity and emotions in tact, and it had taken her all of five minutes to become a sobbing, babbling mess. The department psychologist -a balding, overweight gentleman with horn rimmed glasses, a short sleeved, sweat stained white dress shirt covered by an argyle vest and brown corduroy two inches too short in the legs- had done little more than give a heavy sigh and push himself up from his chair and waddle his way across his office in order to snatch a box of tissues off of his cluttered desk. Which he'd then tossed unceremoniously next to her on the couch before returning to his seat, a look of scorn on his face as he listened to her ramble on about how much she loved her husband, how much she missed him and how she just couldn't accept what had happened to him. How she couldn't come to terms with the fact that he wasn't coming back and how she had so many questions and didn't know where to turn for answers. If there was anywhere to turn at all. And when she'd asked him how she could justify in her own mind and heart going on with her life with someone who had meant so much to her husband, the therapist had held up her hand to silence her.

"Mrs Flack," he'd issued a heavy sigh and a shake of his head. "I'm not here to be a grief counsellor. I'm here to evaluate your mental health. To determine if you're ready to go back to work."

She'd been taken back by his harsh words and his cold, unapproachable demeanour. She had been expecting at least the smallest shred of compassion. Someone that would ask her about the loss she'd suffered and what the last year had been like for her. Who would listen quietly and offer sympathetic smiles or even a touch of advice on how to better deal with her grief. Who could push her in the right direction on how to go on with her life and accept the cards that had been dealt. She had, in a less than polite tone, reminded him about the NYPD's massive mental health initiative since the September 11th attacks, and how the department had made it a strict practice to deploy psychologists and grief counsellors for family members who'd lost a loved one employed with the department in the terrorist attacks.

"Your husband didn't die in the line of duty," the psychologist reminded her. "So therefore the department has no responsibility to provide you with counselling of any kind. You've been sent to me by your direct supervisor Detective Taylor and Inspector Whitmore. I'm to determine whether you're fit to work. The department can't afford you having an breakdown while on company time."

After that she'd completely shut down. She'd sat silent and stone faced on that raggedy old couch, twisting a Kleenex in her trembling hands and keeping her eyes focused on her feet. She gave one word answers or shakes or nods of her head. She was wounded and furious. Beyond caring whether or not that jackass with a hundred thousand dollar degree and absolutely no empathy felt she was 'fit' enough to work for the NYPD. At that point in time, as he rattled on about how she should perhaps talk to her family physician about her dark moods and her irregular sleeping patterns and to see if she could get onto a strict regime of emotion and energy boosting moods, going back to work suddenly became the last thing she wanted to do. The first thing she desire was a stiff drink. The second was to go home and bury herself under the covers in her dark and dingy bedroom and never come back out.

She'd failed. She'd known it as soon as she'd stepped out of the office without a glance back at the therapist and had stomped out of the waiting room door and hurried for the elevator. She had completely blown it and she knew it. There was no way in hell, after the spectacle she'd made of herself during the appointment, ever be cleared to return to work.

And she wasn't sure if she even cared. She knew that there was money in the bank and that there was a settlement coming from the airline. And that if she ever actually had to go back to work, she could get a teaching job at one of the many post secondary institutions in the city. Or that she'd be readily accepted into another crime lab somewhere in the states. Going back to work, to familiar surroundings and friendly faces had been a way of keeping her sanity. Of keeping herself above water and making herself happy by being around the people she loved, doing the job that she loved. Financially, it wasn't a dire necessity to go back to work. But her mental health depended on it.

Tears burned her eyes and blurred her vision as she stared up at the illuminated numbers above the elevator door. Her foot tapped out a steady, annoyed rhythm on the floor below as she impatiently counted down the floors. Time moving at a snail's pace as the car made its descent. She needed to get the hell out of there. Away from the pity and the scorn that had been on the doctor's face that was now emblazoned in her mind.

Away from the members of the brass, who upon spotting her in the halls going to and from her appointment, stopped her to ask how she was coping and how the newest member of the Flack dynasty was doing. Despite wanting to get as far away as quickly as possible, she'd humoured them by reaching into her purse and pulling out her cell phone and showing them the several pictures of DJ she had stored inside. Normally her heart swelled with pride and a massive grin would cover her face when someone talked about how beautiful of a baby he was. But on that day, under those circumstances, hearing about how much he looked like his father and how he seemed to be a chip off of the old block felt like a poisoned arrow being shot directly into what was left of her withered heart.

Escape. It was the only thing she wanted to do and it was the one thing that was evading her.

And this goddamn elevator is taking so bloody long, she thought, as she bit her bottom lip anxiously and tapped her foot more aggressively, silently pleading for the damn lift to go faster. To just hurry the hell up already. To just let her out of its vice like grip as the walls threatened to close in around her.

Relief surged through her as the elevator finally shuddered to a stop and the doors slid open, and stumbling out into the main lobby of One Police Plaza, she hurried for the front desk in order to sign herself out on the visitors list she'd had to scrawl her signature on upon her arrival. She noticed the curious, and slightly concerned, looks on the faces of the both the receptionist and the officers guarding the desk, as she nearly ripped the pen clear off of the chain attached to the clipboard, her hands shaking as she signed her name.

"M'am," one of the officer's stepped around the desk and laid a gentle hand on her forearm. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine," she snapped, then quickly added a polite, "Thank you," before tossing the clipboard down on the desk with a clatter and turning on her heel in order to flee as quick as possible.

Pushing her way through the revolving doors, Sam hurried out into the bright sunshine and humid temperatures and forced her ling to draw in gulps of air. It wasn't the first time she'd had, or been on the verge of having, an anxiety attack, and she knew it most likely wouldn't be her last. The first one she'd experienced had happened shortly after Don's death, when she'd woken up from a horrific nightmare screaming hysterically and drenched in sweat and her heart pounding furiously. The exact contents of the dream she hadn't remembered then and she still didn't remember now, but she did know that it had been a collage of events that included the September 11th attacks -from things she'd seen that day and through the years via the media as she hadn't even lived in New York City at the time-, fears of losing her unborn child, and visions of herself on the plane as opposed to Lindsay. Images and sounds all bunched together that had left her an emotional mess clutching at her chest in the middle of her rumpled bed.

She had immediately assumed that the chest pains were connected to a new medication she had just started taking and had thought that maybe she was having some kind of deadly allergic reaction to it. Terrified for her health and that of her unborn child, she'd immediately called her brother in a state of panic. He'd been working the night shift, but he'd dropped everything and rushed right over and had taken her to the nearest ER. Where, after spending two hours hooked up to an EKG machine, she'd been told she'd suffered an anxiety attack and that they'd like it if she stuck around to talk to a staff psychiatrist about what could have caused it to happen.

The answer to that had been pretty damn simple, and before she'd been able to open her mouth in response, Adam had uncharacteristically snapped on the nurse who'd suggested that his sister was crazy.

"Her husband just died!" he'd spat, as he'd furiously snatched Sam's belonging off of the bedside chair with one hand and assisted her off the bed with the other. "There's tiny pieces of him all over a goddamn field in Virginia. How the hell would you feel?"

But today…maybe today was just a case of too much, too soon. First bearing her entire heart and soul to a complete stranger who in turn had so nonchalantly informed her that her grief was not his issue to concern himself with. Then coming face to face with an uncharacteristically friendly and compassionate Chief of Detectives Brigham Sinclair. She'd been shocked when he'd reached out to embrace her warmly and then assured her that God was watching over her and her son. She hadn't been shocked however, when he'd ended their short and awkward conversation about how he expected to see Donald Flack the Third graduating from the NYPD academy in two decades. That it would be a shame if the boy didn't follow into his father's, and grandfather's, illustrious footsteps.

Of course, Sinclair wasn't the first person to say those words. And he wouldn't be the last. Normally Sam would have just let the comments roll off of her back or smile she'd smile politely and tell them that she wasn't going to ever force her son to do anything. That his future would be a course entirely up to him to chart. That he was just a baby and she wanted to enjoy that stage and his childhood and pre-teen years without having to think about what he'd end up wanting to be when he grew up. Some days, she wanted nothing more than for DJ to be exactly like his daddy in every possible way. Other days, like that one, she wanted to do everything in her power to make sure he followed an entirely different path.

Sweat -both from anxiety and the unseasonably hot temperatures- beaded on her forehead and trickled down the back of her neck. And Sam paused in the middle of busy sidewalk, squeezing her eyes shut as a hand clasped over her racing heart and she attempted to compose herself. Ignoring the annoyed and furious glares that other pedestrians shot at her as they were forced to walk around her.

When her breathing finally levelled out and her heart returned to its normal pace, her eyes flickered open and she wiped the perspiration from her brow with her forearm. Sam glanced down the sidewalk. First to the left, then to the right. Scanning the crowd for the one familiar face -save for the one she'd never, ever see again - that could always calm her with the simplest of smiles.

Sighing in disappointment and resigning herself to the fact that the coffee date had now become a solo excursion, she retreated to the nearest park bench fifty yards away, and sitting down, dug through her purse in search of her cell phone. She'd turned it onto silent when she'd gone in to see the therapist, and if by chance Danny hadn't been able to make it, she was certain that he would have called and left a message. If he was able to that was, depending on what kind of task he was caught up with.

She had just flipped her phone open and was frowning at the lack of voice and text messages when she felt warm breath against her shoulder, the side of her neck and her cheek and her senses were flooded by a familiar masculine and intoxicating scent.

* * *

"How you doin'?" Danny drawled, his lips mere centimetres from her ear.

"Okay Joey Tribbiani," she laughed, a dazzling smile capturing her lips and relief surging through her. She turned her face towards him, the soft and sweet kiss he'd had planned for her cheek catching the corner of her mouth.

"Think about it this way," he gave her a wink. "You're keeping up with this little Friends thing you got goin' on."

She arched a quizzical eyebrow.

"You've got your own Joey Tribbiani in yours truly, and you had your own Tag Jones when you were with Flack. Don't tell me that you never noticed how much he looked like that guy."

"I did. And I mentioned it to him once," Sam said, as Danny walked around the bench. "He looked at me as if I was completely crazy and said he'd never been so offended in his entire life. That Tag was a total girl. And that he was totally alpha-male with not one ounce of femininity in his entire body."

"Yeah…Flack always did have this issue with guys getting in touch with their softer side," Danny chuckled. "I come bearing gifts," he told her, nodding down at a beverage take out tray in his right hand. A small plastic shopping bag dangled from his middle finger.

"Christmas in May?" her eyes sparkled up at him. "Did I ever tell you that Christmas is my favourite holiday?"

"No…but maybe this year you'll have something extra special under the tree," he teased, and taking a seat on the bench, placed the tray and the bag on his left hand side.

"You mean like something that comes in an infamous little blue box?"

He grinned as he pulled the cups from the carry tray. "I was thinking more of something of Italian descent with a red bow tied around its neck and wearing nothing else. Waiting for you under the tree when you got up in the morning."

"Like one of them little Italian greyhounds?" she chided, elbowing him playfully. "I always did love those dogs."

"Don't be such a smart ass," Danny told her. "It's not becoming of you. You have any idea how hard it was for me to escape the lab without telling people where I was going and who I was coming to see? Your brother is a total pain the ass. I would have been sooner but I got caught up playing twenty questions with him by the elevator. He just would not let up until I gave him some kind of clue as to who this mystery girl is that I'm dating."

"Word travels fast," Sam commented, giving a smile and an appreciative nod as he handed her an iced caramel latte.

"I think Stokes and Hawkes were talking about it in trace and one of the lab techs spread it around. You know what that place is like, Brooklyn. Can't scratch your ass or pick your nose in front of people without them wagging their big mouths about it. Remember that time that Adam had spilled his coffee all over that cute red head DNA tech a couple years back? Some ass walked into the room right when he was helping her clean the mess off of her shirt and then it got around that he was feeling her up in the lab?"

Sam nodded.

"People have nothing better to do than talk about others," Danny concluded. "But I gotta admit. This secret girlfriend thing? It's made me pretty damn popular around there. And it's got a couple of the hopeful young ladies pissing mad. Guess they figured they stood a chance getting on my good side."

"Oh I don't think it was your good side they were thinking about," Sam mused as she sipped her drink. "I think they were getting their hopes up that they'd be helping you…what's a good way of putting it? Polish your service weapon."

"You think?" he grinned, and shaking his head, took a sip of his coffee. "They didn't stand a chance. And they definitely don't stand one now. You know, considering I got no complaints about how you…" laying a hand on the back of her neck, Danny leaned sideways, and placing his lips against her temple whispered, "Take care of my service weapon just fine."

"Do you mind?" she asked, blushing furiously and half-heartedly pushing him away with her elbow.

"Do you?" he laughed and combed his fingers through her hair. "'Cause last night and early this morning you were…"

"Danny…seriously…we're sitting in front of One Police Plaza and Sinclair or Whitmore could come walking out and see us or some of the uniforms could…"

"You're right…" he removed his hand from her hair and ran it softly down the back of her head before holding it up in surrender. "Totally inappropriate. I'm sorry. Wouldn't want the Dragon Lady or Bubba catching us looking remotely intimate."

"Bubba?" Sam asked.

"From Forrest Gump," Danny told her. "What? Sinclair looks just like him."

"How do you always manage to find look-alikes for everyone?"

"'Cause I watch a lot of movies and television and I retain a lot of useless information and images in my brain and then when I look at people…BOOM…I'm able to match 'em up with something I've seen on screen. It's a thing with me. My shtick."

"That's my word!" she laughed.

"Now we're both bringing the Brooklyn Yiddish," Danny teased. "Here…brought you a special little something," he reached for the plastic bag and plopped it in her lap. "Now you can't ever say I don't do nice things for you."

Sam opened the bag with her own hand and peered inside. A small smile tugged at her lips, and it became broader and brighter as she reached in and pulled out the item enclosed in plastic wrap. A cookie in the likeness of Hello Kitty, completely with white icing for the face, chocolate Smarties for the eyes and red jelly for the lines of the nose and mouth, and a pink bow made of a liquorice adorning the top of its head.

"When I popped into Starbucks to get us something to drink there was a lady sitting at one of the tables with her daughter and the little girl was eating one of those and I couldn't stop myself from asking where she got it," Danny told her. "Turns out Weinstein's makes this huge array of cookies now based on cartoon characters. So I ran over there and managed to grab the last Hello Kitty one. So consider yourself lucky."

She turned her smile on him and leaned sideways to press a kiss to his cheek. "I already do," she said.

He grinned and gave her a wink, then followed it up with a heavy sigh. "Man…if we weren't in front of One Police Plaza, I'd so kiss you right now," he declared, as he gulped down a mouthful of coffee and turned sideways on the bench. "So?" he asked, as Sam busied herself with peeling the wrapped off of her cookie. "How'd it go with the department shrink?"

Sam snorted.

"That good? What happened?"

"I did exactly what you told me to do," she said. "I was completely honest with him. About how I've been feeling the past year and how I just can't come to terms completely with happened. How one minute I'm fine and the next I'm a total mess."

"And?" Danny pressed gently.

"And he told me that my grief issues were not his concern," Sam answered. "That I was there solely to be evaluated in regards to returning to work."

Danny frowned. "But your grief is what's getting in the way of you functioning properly," he said.

"That is exactly what I said. I told him that if I'm always going to be grieving as badly as I have been for the last three hundred and sixty plus days, how the hell was I suppose to go on with my life? How was I supposed to do my job properly when my entire job is based on dealing with people who have lost loved ones tragically and unexpectedly?"

"And? What did he say?"

"He said that it wasn't his concern and that he suggested that I speak to my family physician about finding a good grief counsellor and getting put on some medication to even out my moods," Sam rolled her eyes and took a bite out of the cookie. "Can you believe that?"

"I can't believe that he was that cold and callous about it," Danny replied. "But I can see where he's coming from. In a way."

"In what way?" she inquired. "He all but called me crazy."

"No. He was trying to get you to see that maybe you need some help…some professional help…when it comes to getting a handle on things. I know what you've been like, Sammie. I've been with you every step of the way for the last year and I know that…" Danny chose his words carefully. "I know it's been a hell of a lot of ups and downs and that you're doing the best you can. But sometimes…well sometimes even the best of us need a little extra help."

"So now you're calling me nuts too," she muttered, and shook her head in disbelief.

"I'm not calling you anything," he assured her. "I'd never say a bad word about you and you know that. I'm just saying that…" he sighed heavily and raked a hand through his hair. "Look…you've been through something horrible, Sammie. We both have. And it was hell on earth for me trying to come out standing in the end. And I know I'm not exactly the most emotionally stable person in the world but you…we all know how sensitive you are and how vulnerable you've been. And it's not a bad thing if you can't cope. No one is going to fault you for that. And if you need to go and talk to someone…"

"I don't need to see a counsellor," Sam informed him angrily. "I don't need to talk to anyone about how I'm feeling or what I've been through or what I'm still going through. I just need to deal with things on my own terms and at my own pace. And I need people to…I just need people to realize that missing Don doesn't make me crazy."

"Everyone realizes that, sweetheart. Trust me. They do. And you're going to miss him for a long time. Part of you will probably always miss him. And you know what? That's okay. 'Cause he was a huge deal in your life and no one expects you to just forget about him. But at the same time…at the same time you'll never be able to deal on the job if you're still carrying all of this sorrow and guilt on your shoulders. And don't sit there and tell me you don't have that guilt. I know you do. 'Cause I had it too for the longest time. Survivor's Guilt. You're not exempt, Sammie. I know you've got this hang up about Lindsay going in your place. About feeling as if you caused my grief. And how are you…how are we…ever going to get on with our lives together if you're always hanging on to that?"

She sighed heavily, her teary eyes riveted on the cookie clasped in one trembling hand.

"I'm not saying all of this to upset you, babe," he placed his coffee on the ground below and then laying his hand on the back of her neck, kneaded gently. "I'd never say anything to hurt you. But I don't want you feeling the way you are about me and Lindsay. She died. And it was horrible and tragic and I miss her and part of me still loves her and probably always will. But you didn't cause what I went through. You aren't to blame for my grief. And I've told you that at least a dozen times already. The crash happened. We can't go back in time and change things. All we can do is move on from it. Together. And that's what we're trying to do, right?"

Sam nodded and sniffled noisily.

"If you want to go and talk to someone…a counsellor or a department chaplain or the priest from your guys' parish…if you want to do that I'll go with you. You don't have to do it alone, Sammie. If you want me to go with you…"

"I do," she whispered and nodded. "I do want you to come with me."

"Then BOOM. It's done. Simple as that. All you gotta do is call your doctor and set something up. 'Cause I guarantee you, the sooner you start getting a grip on what you're feeling, the sooner you'll feel a hell of a lot better and the sooner you'll be able to cope on the job better."

"But what will that matter?" she asked tearfully. "That department shrink…he's going to fail me, Danny."

"You don't know that," he rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

"I do know that. I turned into this blubbering mess and he looked at me as if I was some speck of shit on the bottom of mankind's proverbial shoe. Like I was totally insane. He didn't want to hear about how I was feeling. He just wanted to make sure I wasn't a liability to the department."

"Doesn't mean he's going to declare you unfit for duty 'cause you cried in front of him," Danny told her. "How many times have I been to the department shrink for one thing or another? The Minhaus shooting for one, Louie's beating, calling Gerrard grandpa and telling him to step outside so I can show him what I geek I am, bashing Michael Elgers' head off the cement the most recent. That's nearly one hand right there. I won't even get into all the incidents when I was uniform that I had to go see the shrink for. And here I am. Still miraculously employed by the NYPD. So if I'm still here despite all my fuck ups, trust me, you'll be back on the job in a couple of weeks."

She shook her head sadly. "It was bad, Danny. Really, really, really bad and I…"

"And you're going to be fine," he promised, and taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifted her head and turned her face gently towards him. "Trust me, Sammie. Just trust me."

"I do trust you," she said.

Danny smiled and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. "Everything's going to be okay, Sammie," he said, as he traced the outline of her top lip with his thumb and stroked the underside of her chin with his forefinger. "I doubt the department shrink is going to hold being a grieving widow against you. We both know how far you've come and how far you've still got to go. And we both know that you're ready to go back to work."

"I need to go back. To keep myself sane," Sam declared, as his knuckles drifted along her jaw line, stopping just underneath her ear and then moving across her cheek. Shivering under his feathery touch and the weight of his gaze as his blue eyes locked on her golden brown ones and never wavered. Her stomach fluttered and her heartbeat sped up. Overwhelmed by the intense feelings she was experiencing. Yet was neither nervous or terrified.

She felt…loved.

And she was _in _love.

* * *

No other words were spoken. Nor did they need to be. His fingertips softly explored every inch of her face. Trailing under her left eye and down her cheek. Over her mouth and down the cleft in her upper lip. Moving over her chin and up onto the right side of her face. It was a moment that was so pure and beautiful. An intense intimacy on that crowded, noisy New York City street. As his eyes seemed to burrow into her soul, they also betrayed every feeling and emotion inside of him. And when his hand once more came to rest on the side of her face, Sam trailed her own fingers along his and over the top of his hand and down onto his wrist. Continuing a slow downward path before moving to the inside of his forearm and journeying down to his elbow and up underneath his shirt where her hand rested lightly on his muscular bicep. Their eyes never parting the entire time.

Danny gave a smile and skimmed a fingertip down her nose, then leaned forward to press a kiss to the tip. "You are something else," he whispered. Taken back by the intensity of what to outsiders seemed like a simple moment between a young couple. Yet to him and Sam, there were so many feelings, so much history they shared, that the realization of what they had found in one another was breathtaking.

She nodded at his observation and moved closer to him on the bench. A soft smile curving her lips as his fingers lightly travelled over her forehead before pushing hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "Do you still really want to kiss me right now?" she asked.

"You have no idea," he replied.

"Good," she said, and leaning into him, covered his lips with hers in a long, slow and languid kiss. Not caring who may have saw it or what they would say or what they would think. She had absolutely nothing to be ashamed about.

Danny threw all caution to the wind as well. His hand slid to the back of her head and tangled tightly in her hair as he pulled her even closer and deepened and intensified the kiss. Only breaking away when drawing air into his lungs became a necessity.

Sam gave a content sigh and rested her forehead against his, her eyes still closed. "That was…very nice," she breathed.

Danny chuckled and pecked the bridge of her nose. "Somehow I don't think 'very nice' quite sums that up."

She grinned and shook her head. "And how you describe it?" she asked.

"Honestly?" he pulled away and softly smoothed her hair away from her face. "There are no words to describe _that_."

"God…when you bust out your game Danny, you bust it out big time."

"Guilty as charge," he said with a laugh. "And you know, as much as I'd kill to sit here all day and make out with you, or cut work to take you back to my place and make out with you there…"

"You have to get back to the lab," she finished for him.

He sighed heavily and nodded. "I gotta say thought, he finished off his coffee and stood up, offering her his hand. "Haven't had that hot of a coffee date in a long time. Actually, I don't think I had one like that in…well, ever."

"But you've had a lot of other moments I'm sure," Sam said, as he curled her fingers around his and he pulled her to her feet.

"A few," he admitted. "So you want me to walk you to your car or…"

"Actually, I'll give you a ride back if you want. I know it's just a couple of blocks, but I thought I'd stop in and say hi to everyone."

"The team'll love that," Danny said, as he tossed his empty cup and the carry tray into the nearby garbage.

"I haven't seen them in so long," Sam sighed, as she re-wrapped her cookie and tucked it back into her purse. "I pushed everyone away and I…I want to start mending bridges, you know?"

"It won't take much," Danny assured her. "They understand, Sammie. Believe me. They do."

"I also thought I could talk to Adam. About us."

Danny nodded slowly. "You want me to be with you when you do that or…"

"I think I should do it myself. Peanut and I have always been so close and I feel…I just feel like I owe it to him to be completely honest. And I think he might take it better if I do it alone. So he doesn't feel like I've been hiding something from him."

"Adam deserves that," Danny concluded. "And we deserve that," he quickly added. "We deserve to not feel like we have to hide this from everyone."

"I can't help but feel a little bit nervous," Sam admitted. "It's not like we're two strangers getting involved and meeting their respective friends for the first time. We've known each other for years and we've been friends for so long and you were Don's best friend and I was Lindsay's and I…"

"Will it matter to you, Sammie?" he asked, as captured her hand in his and entwined their fingers. "If people aren't into the idea of me and you? Is it going to change your mind about being with me?"

"Of course not," she replied, as they walked away from the bench and started down the sidewalk towards the entrance to One Police Plaza. "But at the same time I really want all of their blessings and I know that's never going to happen and I'm…well I'm a bit scared, Danny."

"That's okay," he said, and raising their hands to his lips, pressed a kissed to the to her wrist. "I'm a bit freaked out too. There's a few people I'm really worried about to be honest. Adam and Gus are on the top of that list."

"I know the feeling," she sighed heavily. "And Jess."

Danny nodded. "Doesn't help she never quite got over Flack, either.'

Sam shook her head. "No…it doesn't. And we're friends and I miss her terribly. But I was never quite able to get over that, you know? The fact that she was still carrying a thing for my husband."

"Guess that doesn't really matter now though," he remarked sadly.

"No…it doesn't. But she's still very loyal to him and I worry about how badly she's going to freak out. If she'll cause some huge scene."

"I think she knows better than that," Danny said. "And we already have a couple of people on our side. Mac's cool with it. Stella thinks that…"

"You told Stella?"

He nodded. "Had this huge heart to heart with her, actually. She said a whole lot of things that made total sense. About how maybe it was Don and Lindsay that brought us together 'cause were the two people who knew them better than they knew themselves. About how we formed this bond of sorts while helping each other through the grief. I'm telling ya, she should quit the lab and become a therapist. 'Cause she would make a killing off of people."

"I'm glad that she's okay with it," Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Out of everyone, it's what Stella thinks that matters most to me. You know how much I adore her."

"And I know how much she adores you," Danny added. "She's more than okay with it, Sammie. You've got nothing to worry about there, a'right? Once we get this whole telling everyone out of the way, we're gonna feel much more relaxed about things and we're actually going to start enjoying each other."

"Oh I don't know about that," she grinned slyly, and tightening her grip on his hand, pulled his arm across her body and wrapped her own arm around it. "I think we've been enjoying each other just fine."

"And you say my mind's always in the gutter," he teased. "So I was thinking. About our whole first official date thing…"

"Okay…"

"I was thinking that if you can get the inlaw's to keep DJ overnight, you and I can do the whole dinner by candlelight thing. Gussie ourselves up, buy a couple of bottles of wine, lock ourselves in my apartment…"

"Are you cooking?" she inquired.

"I can," he replied. "Or we can order in and we can…"

"There's something so ultimately romantic about you cooking me dinner," she sighed.

"Then that's what we'll do," he said, grinning at her. "I aim to please. In fact I…"

All words seized to escape Danny's lip as a large, strong hand fell on his chest, preventing him from walking any further towards the front entrance of the looming building in front of them. He noticed the way Sam's face blanched and her eyes widened and felt the way her hand tightened around his and her nails dug into the inside of his forearm. And as he turned towards what had caught her attention and had clearly startled her, he found himself staring into the furious eyes of Detective Tony Scagnetti. Flack's partner in the months before his death, the two men had been friends for years and Scagnetti had been, and always would be, fiercely loyal to Flack. Or Junior, as Scagnetti had affectionately referred to him as.

"What's up with you?" Danny asked, glancing down at the hand that held him firmly in place. "You gotta problem?"

"Yeah…" Scagnetti growled in response. "What the fuck you think you're doing with Flack's wife?"

* * *

**Okay, so I decided to end this chapter there. I am evil, I know. Gives our couple a chance to figure out just how they're going to deal with this particular situation. LOL.**

**Massive thanks to all of those who are reading and reviewing! And lurking! I appreciate each and every one of you and I can't thank you all enough for your continued support!**

**Special thanks to:**

**CSINYMinute**

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